The Agreement
by Gemgirl65
Summary: A virgin. An escort. A contract signed. But falling in love wasn't part of the agreement... AH, E&B
1. Chapter 1

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. What follows here is all my doing.**

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><p>The hotel door loomed before her, enormous, forbidding.<p>

"Forbidding" was a good word, she thought, but "forbidden" was more accurate. For once she knocked on that door, once she put one toe across that threshold, she knew there was no turning back.

Not in the literal sense, of course. She knew he would not keep her here against her will. She had signed an agreement, and so had he. It looked legitimate enough. But even a nineteen-year-old virgin was smart enough to know that what they were both doing was illegal, and the piece of paper they had signed was a mere formality, no more binding than a handshake.

Still, she had to believe that he would uphold his end of the bargain. The Enforcer was waiting in the hotel bar to make sure that he did. That's what Renaissance Escorts had called the brute downstairs, and he certainly looked like an extra from a mobster flick. If she didn't reappear later this evening unharmed and happy as a clam, the brute would make Edward Cullen pay. That's what the agreement said. If the escort laid one hand on her in a way she didn't approve of, he would suffer the consequences.

She wondered if Edward Cullen was his real name. It sounded too old-fashioned for a twenty-two-year-old. Or was he even twenty-two? He looked young in the photo. She had chosen him not just because he was hauntingly beautiful, but because there was still a certain innocence about him, if that was even possible in his line of work.

Maybe all the escorts had names and looks in keeping with the "Renaissance" theme. This service was supposed to be one of the most prestigious in the city. For a handsome fee, a handsome man would be at any woman's disposal, wining and dining and wooing her according to whatever fantasy she described in her application.

Her fantasy was simple. She wanted someone to pay attention to her.

That's not what she wrote in the application, of course. How pathetic would that sound? So she came up with a romantic hodge-podge of scenes from books and movies: candles, dinner, fancy clothes, small talk, soft music, dancing, romancing. The stuff that was a prelude to what she was really after. What she hoped and assumed that a paid escort would ultimately provide.

Sex.

She was tired of being a virgin. She probably should have just given in to Mike Newton in high school; succumbed to his clumsy fumbling and sloppy kisses. How bad could it have been? At least she wouldn't be the only virgin on her dorm hall, smiling and laughing and trying to throw in a witty comment when she had no real idea what she was talking about.

She even watched internet porn on the sly just so she'd know how it all really went down. She was mildly repulsed at the loveless, animalistic acts she saw there, but she forced herself to watch anyway. She didn't want to act the clueless, naïve virgin, even if that's exactly what she was.

She'd had opportunities to get laid during her freshman year. Even the most homely girls could accomplish that. She didn't quite think she qualified for that designation, though in her estimation she was no raving beauty, either. She had always fallen somewhere in between. Acceptable, forgettable, even invisible at times. She was not the natural-born life of the party, but not the wallflower either. She was adrift somewhere in between.

She had met a few boys who were adrift, too. She had chatted with them, made friends with them, even made out a little with them. She kept waiting to feel the spark. The passion that would push her over the edge and make her want to take the next step: to let this person into not just her head, but her heart and soul and body, too.

She never felt it. Not even with Jake this summer, when she really wished she would feel it. But after the way he ended up treating her, she was glad she didn't give in.

She grimaced now at the memory. She wondered if something was wrong with her. She had never considered herself a romantic, and had prided herself on her practicality. But when it came to boys, the ordinary just didn't seem to be enough. If it had been, then she would have done the deed by now. For this one major milestone in her life, she wanted something more than the mundane. She wanted to do more than settle. And if she had to use all her hard-earned summer job earnings to find the extraordinary, then so be it.

Edward Cullen certainly looked extraordinary in his profile picture, his pretty features assembled attractively over rugged, squared-off bones. The written description said he enjoyed reading, playing the piano and running on the beach. She figured that was a load of horseshit, but she didn't care. She liked his eyes. They were large, blue-green and laden with a heavy-lidded intensity that seemed to project far beyond the confines of her computer screen. She didn't even look at any other possible suitors after she found him.

He was the one who would deflower her.

She laughed out loud now as she thought of the old-fashioned phrase. It fit his Victorian, or rather Edwardian, name. And wasn't that what she really wanted, anyway? Someone to take her maidenhood rather than pop her cherry? Even though he wouldn't give a damn about anything more than the exorbitant fee she'd forked over, at least he, and all the trappings she had requested in her application, would give her the illusion that this was a special occasion.

She couldn't wait to hear him try to play the piano. She had paid extra for an upright version to be wheeled into the luxury suite just so she could call Edward Cullen on his bluff. Even if the rest of the evening was a disappointment, his humiliation alone might be worth the outrageous outlay of cash.

Speaking of cash, time was money. She had spent at least five minutes now standing outside the hotel door, staring at it. She had memorized its rich mahogany burnish and chrome handle with the sleek I.D. sensor entry mechanism. Her fist had hovered near the elegant wood several times, but her knuckles had yet to make contact.

What if Edward wasn't as good-looking as his picture? What if he was good-looking but an arrogant ass? What if he was perfect except for a horrible case of halitosis? Or, worst of all, what if Renaissance Escorts had pulled a bait and switch, and the door would open to reveal some hideous middle-aged pervert rapist instead?

Her face was configured in a mask of horror at this last thought when the door suddenly, inexplicably opened. She gasped with a shock of surprise. Her eyes locked straight ahead, giving her a view of a dark-blue tie, perfectly knotted and collared under a meticulously crafted jacket of matching navy. The suit was expensive. She knew it instinctively. Why wouldn't it be? The guy was making a thousand dollars a pop.

_Pop_. She giggled nervously again at the euphemism for what she was paying him to do tonight.

"I thought I heard someone outside," came a voice from above the tie. The sound was low and soft. Warm, inviting. Why wasn't she relieved? She knew she should raise her eyes, but she was concentrating too hard on breathing to perform any additional bodily functions.

"You have a nice laugh," the voice added.

Laugh? Had she laughed? Oh, that's right. She had, at the deflowering. That's why he had come to the door. To commence with said deflowering.

"Would you like to come in, Miss Swan?" the voice continued. It sounded a bit concerned. Then, apprehensive. "You are Miss Swan, right?"

She knew the answer to that one. Now all she had to do was say yes, or at least nod. She could do that, couldn't she? She tried to shift her focus from the breathing to the nodding. After a moment, her head and neck cooperated. She realized she was still breathing, too. That was a relief. Next she could work on looking him in the eye.

But first, she must coordinate her limbs enough to step into the room. One foot in front of the other. She'd been doing it since she was one year old, she reminded herself. One toe over the threshold. . .

Her eyes dropped and affixed themselves to the plush carpet beneath his polished black shoes as she waffled. He had big feet. She wondered if the correlation everyone always joked about was true. The possibility made an extra zing of nervousness jolt through her body.

Suddenly something reassuringly fleshy and human entered her line of vision. She jumped a little and refocused. She was relieved to realize it was his hand, outstretched. His fingers were long, elegant, yet masculine. The hand of a piano player, perhaps. An Edwardian hand.

She laughed again in her nervousness, and he answered with a small chuckle. The sound was as delicious as his speaking voice. She needed to look up at the mouth that was soothing her; put her hand in the welcoming warmth of his. He would make all of this okay. He would help her put more than just a toe through that daunting doorway.

She let her eyes roam slowly upward. Up the line of his tie and its symmetrically-tied knot; over the subtle swell of his Adam's apple; through the burgeoning jungle of seven o'clock shadow on his neck; and over the speed-bump of his chin, with a satisfying pit stop at its cleft. At last her gaze settled on the vibrant pink of his full, half-smiling lips. His grin was crooked; a bit of smirk, really. Utterly disarming.

She hadn't even looked into his eyes, and she was already lost.

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><p><strong>A little background: I came up with the rather bizarre premise for this story last fall while trying to think of a plot for a one-shot erotica fic contest. The story soon morphed into more than would fit within the contest word limit, so I just kept writing to see where it would take me. Now that I have a few chapters under my belt, I decided to post it here and see if anyone else wants to come along for the ride. Hope you have as much fun as I have so far!<strong>

**Special thanks to Carson Dyle, fic-writer and editor extraordinaire, who beta'd the first part of this story when I still had plans to submit it for a contest. Your help and friendship have been invaluable to me!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Stephenie Meyer owns it all. I'm just assuming the puppet-master role for awhile.**

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><p>She felt his hand reach for hers. Apparently he had tired of waiting for her to take it. He pulled at her gently, and she gave in immediately. She had no recollection of crossing the threshold. By the time she raised her eyes to the level of his adorable, slightly off-center nose, she was already inside with the door closed behind her.<p>

"Would you like a drink, Isabella?" he asked politely.

The sound of her full name startled her. She'd never liked it. No one called her that except her father, and that was only through gritted teeth when he was upset with her. She'd never heard it sound like this before, so melodious. Maybe she would try being Isabella tonight. It matched the elegance of Edward's name. And his designer suit. Her cheeks colored slightly at the thought of how her department store sale-rack dress must look to him.

"Sure, a drink would be great," she managed to say. She'd try anything to take the edge off. In fact, drinking heavily might be an excellent idea if she really planned to go through with this crazy idea.

She watched him amble into the living area, its centerpiece a glass-topped table surrounded by modern but comfortable-looking chairs. She took a few hesitant steps after him, glancing around at her luxurious surroundings and trying to appreciate their sleek, expensive appearance.

In truth, she was much more interested in the dashing figure that the escort cut as he leaned over the table and picked up something from its surface. She noticed his hair was a curious shade of brown, its golden highlights giving it the appearance of bronze glinting in the sunlit room. It duck-tailed neatly down the back of his neck, but spiked up from the top of his head in a display of artfully arranged anarchy, defying the studied perfection of his attire below.

"Red or white?" he queried as he turned suddenly to face her, a bottle of wine in each hand. Her unprepared eyes met his and she was paralyzed, gaping, like a salmon trapped in a frozen waterfall.

The computer profile hadn't done him justice. It hadn't even come close. The two-dimensional image she'd carried of him in her mind for the past two weeks was flattened further by the glory of the living, breathing being who stood mere feet away from her.

Edward Cullen's eyes were the color and depth of Puget Sound shimmering in the distance through the glass walls behind him. His gaze swallowed her entirely. He was so handsome, she couldn't find words to express it; and even if she could, she wouldn't be able to utter them. She ignored his faintly bemused, quizzical expression and simply drank in his beauty like a desert cactus soaks up a desperately needed rain.

"If you don't like wine, we can raid the mini bar," he suggested.

He wondered how long it would take her to get her bearings and answer him. He was used to women gawking over his looks, but this girl really took the cake. She looked like she'd never seen a man before. He wondered if she had recently escaped a nunnery, or maybe prison. That was the kind of crap women never revealed on their applications.

He tried to make his smile appear patient and understanding. She didn't look like prison material. She looked more like she'd perform a funeral service for a fly she'd just swatted. The nunnery was a definite possibility, though he'd never seen pious girls in heels and a short skirt like that. No nun should have legs like those, hidden away from a man's eyes and hands. Those were legs that should be celebrated, then divided and conquered. Luckily for her, she had come to just the right place for the celebration to begin.

"Wine is fine," she said, surprising him. He had begun to think he would have to carry on the conversation himself. He'd done it before; he could do it again. The conversation part usually didn't last long anyway.

"Okay," he smiled, returning the red wine to the table and reaching for the corkscrew to open the white. "You rhymed," he added with the quirk of one thick, arched eyebrow.

Her cheeks turned a delectable shade of pink. "I prefer red," she spoke up, less timidly this time.

His smile grew. Maybe the cat would let go of her tongue after all. He was usually good at getting pussies purring sooner or later.

"So do I," he admitted. He did prefer red wine. He rarely lied to clients, except perhaps by omission. He found ways to say only what he meant, as much as possible. The honesty kept him balanced; kept the self-revulsion at bay.

He switched bottles and opened the red, a prestige cabernet sauvignon that he usually brought to these kinds of dates. After reading her application, he had put her on what he called the Enhanced Romance Plan. All women wanted some degree of romance, but a few of them required the whole nine yards: the very best flowers, gourmet food and wine, soft music, flattery and seduction. Many times, the fairytale was all they wanted, and sex never even entered into it.

He studied Isabella Swan's big brown eyes a moment. He knew instinctively that she wanted more than a fairytale, despite the frilly, obviously fake name she'd chosen for the occasion. Behind the shy demeanor, he sensed that she was a girl with a plan of her own. She had a specific objective in mind. Before this night was through, he would ferret it out and fulfill it.

"I'm going to assume you're old enough to drink this," he said as he poured the deep garnet liquid into an over-sized goblet. Unless she had lied about her age on the application, he knew she was only nineteen. But a little wine would ease her nerves and loosen her lips. If he deemed her too tipsy to drive by the end of the night, he would pay for her cab ride home himself.

He held out the glass of wine for her to come and take. He would not approach her; he would wait patiently for her to come to him. She took a few tentative steps until they were face to necktie. He did not miss the slight wobble of her ankles above their skyscraper shoes; she did not miss the deliberate brush of his fingers against hers as he handed her the glass.

He poured one for himself and held it up. "What shall we toast to, Isabella?"

She almost snorted aloud at the question. None of the answers that popped into her head were things she could possibly say out loud. Her heart palpitated helplessly as she stared up at his gorgeous face. He looked even better up close. Who actually looked better up close? Now she could truly appreciate the inordinate length of his sable eyelashes, the smoothness of his skin, the prominence of his stubble-covered jaw. She could even smell him from this proximity - clean, slightly spicy, with a hint of musky maleness. She unconsciously leaned into his scent. She wanted more of the musk.

Her awkwardness was uncomfortable for him to watch. Her eyes were enormous, like those of a frightened but curious fawn. Still, he adored the way she blushed and bit her bottom lip, her two front teeth leaving an impression behind after they released it. He stared at the white imprint as it filled with pink again. He could almost taste it. Moreover, he wanted to taste it.

Odd. He rarely ever wanted to kiss clients, and usually took steps to avoid it until absolutely necessary.

He wanted to kiss her.

He frowned slightly at the realization, then focused on the task at hand. He needed to come up with a toast.

"Here's to this evening being everything you want it to be," he said, his tone laced with careful innuendo. It was always a good idea to identify the reason they were both here. There was no point in her wasting her money or his time if she didn't know what she wanted.

She swallowed audibly as she nodded and lifted her glass to his. "Cheers," she said softly.

He noticed her voice was smooth and low. Nice. He'd take quiet and reserved over shrill and overbearing any day, though he wished she could pipe up long enough to take his cue and fill him in on what she expected. Her application claimed she wanted all the usual frou-frou trappings, but he was skilled at reading in between the lines. She didn't care about parading him around in public like a piece of arm candy, or showing him off at a wedding or reunion to prove she could get a date.

She wanted to be alone with him.

He knew from experience, however, that a private date didn't always end in sex. He hoped it would tonight, though. He already knew he wanted to fuck her. He was grateful for that, because it would make the evening much less tedious. He cherished the nights when he was actually attracted to his client. They were becoming fewer and further between. Either the women in this city were losing their charm, or he was losing his.

But jaded wasn't such a bad way to be. Life had become a lot easier to deal with when he had stopped letting it surprise him so much.

She took several quick sips of her wine, not seeming to savor it. Perhaps she was anxious for its narcotic effects to kick in. He watched her full lips caress the glass and again, he wanted to kiss her.

Crazy. He needed a distraction.

"I hope you like the room," he said, gesturing to the rest of the Grand Suite, or at least what they could see of it. It boasted a kitchen, living and dining rooms, a master bedroom and bath, and a guest room. He would live here exclusively if he could afford it. Maybe someday he would.

She looked around, trying to take it all in. The place was almost as gorgeous as he was, save the crucial deficiency of being cold and inanimate. Edward Cullen was easily the most attractive thing in the room.

"The view is spectacular," she said. He didn't notice that she was looking at him instead of the city skyline beyond the expansive glass walls.

"Isn't it?" he agreed, gazing out over the water in the distance. The sun was beginning its slow descent in the west, casting a warm glow through the windows and bathing the entire room in gold. Isabella's pale skin took on its warmth, and it suited her. It softened her eyes into two chocolate drops atop her flushed cheeks, and brought out the reddish highlights in her long chestnut hair. She seemed to get prettier the more he looked at her.

Or maybe it was just the wine.

He took another sip, and another stab at conversation. "I went ahead and ordered your favorite foods for dinner. I hope that's okay. Room service should be here any minute."

"What? Oh, that's great. Thanks," she said, trying to disguise her confusion. She couldn't remember what she had listed on the application as her "ideal dinner." Spinach ravioli, perhaps; or maybe filet mignon, if she had been feeling decadent that day.

She didn't really care about the menu. The food, the wine, the small talk were all just a prelude. A prelude to something that suddenly felt so enormous that she wasn't sure she could go through with it. She gulped more wine, barely noticing its dry yet velvety feel in her mouth before swallowing.

He winced at the sight. He hated watching college girls drink wine. They had no idea how to savor or appreciate it. That was one area where older women excelled. He preferred their experience and refinement. They had taught him a lot - one perk of the job, he reminded himself.

He was ready to attempt more conversation; to ask if she was about to start the fall semester, and what grade she was in, and what she was studying. But when he looked into her eyes, the blunt honesty he saw there crippled his tongue. This girl would not be impressed by banal chit-chat or glib flattery. He could see that his usual techniques would not seduce her.

The question was, what would?

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><p><strong>Thanks for the great response so far to this story! I love hearing from you all - I'm an unabashed feedback junkie. A word of warning, though: I answer all reviews (unless you've disabled PM's, which always makes me sad). I never know whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. I figure that if you've taken time out of your day to read my words and let me know what you thought, then the least I can do is say "thanks." Feel free to ignore me. :)<strong>


	3. Chapter 3

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I'm just taking the characters on a little detour. Or maybe a big one...**

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><p>He was out of his element, and the feeling was unfamiliar, unwelcome. The tense vacuum of silence around them begged him to fill it with blather, and he was about to give in to the urge when there was a knock at the door.<p>

He tried to silence his sigh of relief. Saved by the dinner bell.

"Speak of the devil," he said, with a raised eyebrow at Isabella. She looked as relieved as he felt.

He hurried to the door to let in the bellhop, who pushed a cart laden with silver-lidded trays toward the dining room table. Edward already had two tapers burning there on either side of an enormous bouquet of mixed flowers. He directed the server to place their dishes at one end of the table, across from one another. He wanted to be able to watch Isabella - her expressions, her mannerisms, her manners - and her reactions to his. He needed to get a better read on her. So far, she had been frustratingly enigmatic.

She finally set her purse down on a nearby chair, then followed the two men to the table. She watched as the server lifted the lids off the courses, describing them one by one. She pretended not to be surprised at the crab cakes, grilled asparagus, filet mignon and tiramisu offerings, since she had listed them all as her preferences. The food looked, and smelled, delicious. Its scent overpowered the escort's for the time being, and her appetite seemed to recover enough to temper her nerves.

As Edward pressed a wad of cash into the bellhop's hand before sending him on his way, she realized that his dinner was identical to hers.

"Excellent choices," he told her, returning to the table and pulling her chair out for her. She sat down while he continued to eerily read her mind. "I decided to order the same things. You can never go wrong with a little surf and turf."

He disappeared to the living room, then returned with the bottle of wine. He refilled their glasses and seated himself across from her, giving her a stiff smile. She tried not to stare at him, but it was a losing battle. He must find her horribly rude. Or possibly a little touched in the head.

But her studies were revealing more about him, slowly but surely. Once her eyes adjusted to the glare of his beauty, she began to look for cracks in its veneer. He was human, after all. There was a flesh and blood man under that pretty face and impeccable Italian suit of armor.

His eyes were the first to betray his aura of confidence. They weren't as cool and collected as the rest of his demeanor. Their gaze was uncertain; tentative around the edges. Then his hands began following suit, agitating his hair with habitual regularity, making its disarray more and more prominent. His mane defied gravity; his eyes defied circumstance.

She realized with a start that he didn't like his circumstances. He didn't want to be here.

He didn't want to be an escort.

She frowned at her plate and wondered if she should call him on his bluff. Call this whole "date" off, and reject everything the exchange of money for services implied. Whatever his reasons for pursuing this line of work, she was now certain they were of necessity rather than choice.

The silence continued to oppress them as they unfolded crisp linen dinner napkins and spread them across their laps.

He wondered if she would ever speak.

She wondered what to say.

She stabbed a fork into her appetizer and tried to muster the courage to voice what they both must be thinking: that he'd rather be anywhere else than with her right now, and that she wasn't sure she could go through with a night of loveless sex in a five-star hotel any more than she could in her dingy dorm room.

But before she could build up the nerve, he beat her to the punch.

"Why are you here, Isabella?" he asked with abrupt candor. At this point, he figured he had nothing to lose.

A large bite of crab cake went down her gullet in a hasty gulp. "What do you mean?" she stalled. She hadn't expected him to put her on the spot instead.

"You're not my typical client. You're young and beautiful. You could have your pick of eligible guys. Why do you think you need me?"

She stared into his serious gaze. Damn, he was good. She almost believed him.

"Look, I know you have to say those kinds of things because I paid you good money to," she said. "But I'm letting you off the hook. You can cut the crap. I mean, I know the truth."

He frowned, his thick eyebrows squeezing the bridge of his nose. "You don't know anything," he retorted. "Just because you don't believe what I say doesn't mean it's not true. I don't have to tell you you're beautiful. If I didn't find you attractive, I would just say that your dress is lovely, or your hair looks great, or you look amazing tonight. All of which is true, by the way. I don't tell everyone they're beautiful. Hardly anyone, in fact."

He was being generous. He'd never told any client she was beautiful, ever. He had found all sorts of creative ways to get around that bit of dishonesty. From the start, he had decided that the only things he was obligated to prostitute were his body and his time. All else - his opinions, his preferences, his needs, his desires - were his and his alone, to bestow as he saw fit.

And as he sat across the table from Isabella Swan, watching the candle flames illuminate her porcelain skin and flicker in her deep brown eyes, he found her indisputably beautiful. The notion that she saw herself as anything less confounded and disturbed him.

She could see that he was serious; offended, even, that she hadn't accepted his praise more graciously. She looked him in the eyes and said with utter sincerity, "Thank you. That's quite a compliment coming from you."

He appeared baffled. "What do you mean by that?"

"Well, come on," she said with a slight roll of her eyes. "Look at you. You're . . . " She paused as her eyes swept over his broad shoulders, up his masculine neck, and lingered over his achingly attractive features. "You're ridiculously good-looking. I'm sure you know that."

"What am I, Zoolander?" he said with a light snort of laughter. She barely cracked a smile at the joke. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," he added, with a sardonic twist of his lips. He hated talking about his looks. He hated the arrogance it implied to even acknowledge them.

She found his tone surprising. It smacked of sarcasm, as if his handsomeness was nothing but a sham. She wondered how someone like him could look in the mirror and not see what the rest of the world saw.

But his words also meant that he found her beautiful, just as she did him. That was something she did not expect. She was still hesitant to believe him, even though he spoke with conviction. Perhaps he was so practiced at the art of flattery that his falsehoods rang true. But something in his eyes told her that he was not yet that jaded.

"What about you?" she countered, letting her curiosity - and the wine - make her brave. "Why are you here? Why do you need this?"

He stared at her blankly. Clients never asked him that. Well, some of the older ones did. They assumed it was the money, and they were mostly right. He liked to think he did it to stroke his ego a bit, too, except that he didn't have one. But he was great at faking it.

"The pay is excellent and the perks are, well . . . " He finished the thought by raking his eyes up and down her slight frame, pausing to stare provocatively at the bare expanse of flesh right above her breasts.

Her cheeks flamed hot, but she remained undaunted. "Besides that," she pressed.

He shrugged dismissively. "There is nothing else. It's easy money and I'm good at it. My friends always used to joke that I was so good at picking up women that I ought to get paid for it. One day I decided that maybe they were on to something."

Her eyes narrowed. She was studying him again. He was used to appraisal, but not scrutiny. He squirmed uncomfortably and polished off the rest of his wine.

"That's bullshit," she finally declared with a shake of her head. "You like being used. You think that's all you're good for. That that's all you deserve."

He felt the impact of her words like a knife to the gut, piercing and deep, spilling his entrails out on the table before he ever felt the pain of the attack. It was too late to raise his shield, so he launched a counter offense.

"Let me guess - you're a psych major," he said with a withering sneer. "Is that why you came here? To psychoanalyze me and figure out why I'd make such a fucked-up career choice? Just don't forget to turn the microscope back on yourself while you're at it. I'd love to hear why a beautiful young girl would pay two months' rent to be seduced by a complete stranger."

She looked flummoxed, and he was glad. She would think twice before she left her glass house for another attack.

"You don't have to tell me," he continued. "I'm sure I can guess. Your boyfriend treats you like crap, or maybe he's lousy in the sack, so you came here to find out if there's something better out there. Or maybe it's the opposite - he's complaining about your lack of expertise, so you thought you'd get some from a professional before you lose him. Am I getting warm?"

The only thing warm was her face. She was livid. How dare he make such presumptions about her? _Never mind that you just did that to him, _her guilty conscience chided her.

"You're ice cold," she said, in a tone to match.

"Am I?" he challenged, his eyes boring into hers, searching for answers. "If things are so hunky-dory with your boyfriend, then why are you here?"

"There is no boyfriend, okay?" she exploded. "No boyfriend, no sex, no . . . nothing." She bit her lip, cutting herself off too late. Her status as a loser was confirmed. Now he could gloat, and be arrogant, and fulfill all her worst fears about him. He was well on his way now, so he might as well finish the job.

But when she looked at his face, his expression was thoughtful, not judgmental. He slowly leaned forward and picked up the wine bottle, refilling her glass and then his own.

"Why are you in such a hurry?" he asked. "A girl like you will have those things before you know it. You don't have to buy them."

She let out a bitter laugh. "If you saw the guys at my school, you would beg to differ."

His smile was wry. He wondered why she thought he was so different. It hadn't been that long ago that he was one of those ordinary boys she scoffed at, looking for a girl like her. A girl who might actually make him feel something. A girl who could have kept him from walking down this path he'd chosen. He'd given up on the endeavor, and apparently, so had she.

He sipped his wine slowly as the truth sank in. Now he knew the real reason she was here. She was through waiting for clumsy college boys to figure out how to get it right, to make her want to take that last step with them, to go all the way. She wanted her first time to be with a handsome prince on a cloud of four-hundred-count percale sheets, not in the back seat of a rusted-out car or the squeaky bed of a cramped dorm room.

She did want the fairytale, even if she had to buy it.

He could almost see the logic in it, except that she had overlooked the most important part. How on earth could Isabella Swan, or whoever she was, think that paying for sex would make it special? Didn't she understand that the exact opposite was true?

He had never taken a client's virginity. This would be a first for him. Older women seemed to prefer him, and he found them easier to deal with than the young ones. The conversation was less stilted, and they had a better handle on what they wanted out of the situation. They often told him he was an "old soul," whatever that meant. He didn't question it. He didn't give much thought to any of his jobs. He kept his mind focused on the money and what it could do.

He took a deep breath and dug into the crab cakes on his own plate as he deliberated how to proceed. Could he really do this? Did he want this kind of responsibility?

He watched her from across the table for a moment. Her face was hard, cheeks flushed with embarrassment, eyes downcast as she speared another forkful of crab. She refused to look at him now. It made him want her unnerving gaze upon him like he'd never wanted anything before.

He longed to reach out and touch her across the table . . . to soften her edges; strip away the tough shell that hid her tenderness within. He wanted her to look at him like she'd never looked at any man before. Not with that suspicious, disbelieving stare, but with eyes far more vulnerable, trusting and willing.

Yes, he was ready. He could do this. He wanted to do this.

He wanted to be her first.

It was his job to give women a night they'd never forget. He would give that to Isabella Swan in the very best way he knew how, and make sure she didn't regret it. But no matter what he did for her tonight, he knew he would never be able to match the gift she was about to give him. He only wished she would realize how precious it was.

He stared relentlessly until she finally looked up at him. His voice came out a little raspier than he intended.

"I'll be whoever you want me to be tonight," he said.

Those must have been the magic words, for he got his wish. Her eyes visibly softened as she regarded him.

Her voice was as raw as his when she replied. "I want you to be yourself."

They both wondered who that was.

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><p><strong>Thank you all for the wonderful support! I appreciate all the great reviews and alerts more than you know. :)<strong>


	4. Chapter 4

**Stephenie Meyer is responsible for all things Twilight. I'll have to take responsibility for whatever transpires here. **

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><p>Edward didn't like the turn this conversation was taking. Tonight wasn't about him. It was time Bella remembered that.<p>

"Women don't pay me to be myself," he asserted gruffly. "They pay me to be whoever they need me to be. You must have had something specific in mind for tonight, or you wouldn't have called an escort service."

"That's the thing - I didn't, really," she protested. "Not exactly. I just knew what I _didn't_ want. And you looked like you would . . . get that."

She fell silent. She didn't know how to explain why she chose this route to lose her virginity, or what it was about him that made him stand out from all the others. In fact, the more she thought about her decision, the more she wondered what on earth had possessed her.

He wondered, too.

"All right, then," he said, somewhat bewildered. "I'll do my best _not_ to be whatever it is you don't want me to be."

His awkward words illustrated just how absurd her request was. She let out a frustrated laugh, and he joined her.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I know how ridiculous I must sound."

"You're fine," he assured her. "We'll play it by ear. Just don't forget that you call the shots. This is your fantasy."

He looked at her expectantly. _Give me something. Anything, _he thought.

Her gaze faltered, then fell to her empty plate.

He stifled a sigh. "On to the entrée," he suggested with forced cheer. He pushed his appetizer plate away and moved on to the main course, waiting for her to follow suit before he started in on his steak.

They ate amidst a dense thicket of silence, perforated only by an occasional comment about how good the food was. The quiet was still uncomfortable, but less from anxiety this time. Instead, the air around them crackled with anticipation for what was to come. Their imaginations were fertile now that the seeds of mutual attraction had been sown.

The sound of his own chewing was driving Edward to distraction. He realized that he had forgotten to turn on the sound system and choose the appropriate ambience for the evening. He'd been sidetracked from his earlier preparations by Isabella's giggle outside the door. He had figured it was that damned maid again, annoyingly persistent despite his numerous rejections of her advances. He'd been ready to tell her where she could stick her Swiffer when he yanked open the door, only to be pleasantly surprised by the sight of the pretty, unspoiled girl who now sat awkwardly across the table from him.

"Would you like to listen to some music?" he asked. Better late than never, he supposed. He frowned slightly at his own ineptitude. It wasn't like him to be off his game like this.

"Oh, are you going to play for me?" She smiled suddenly. "I had the hotel put a piano in here when I saw in your profile that it's one of your hobbies."

So that's why there was suddenly an upright ensconced in the glass-walled corner of his favorite suite. He'd assumed it was simply a new hotel addition.

"Sure, I'd be happy to play something for you after dinner," he offered.

"I can't wait," she said with a curious Cheshire grin. He didn't understand her expression - almost smug, like she had a secret. His brow creased again as he reached for the elegantly-plated tiramisu. He didn't wait for her this time, taking a forkful and savoring its rum-soaked richness.

She tried not to laugh out loud at his obvious discomfort. She couldn't wait to catch him in his fib - to see him crack his knuckles over the keyboard and then regale her with "Chopsticks," or maybe "Heart and Soul" if he was lucky. Anticipating his fallibility made her feel more at ease. She had to level the playing field somehow.

She still could not shake the thought that she was woefully inadequate compared to the gorgeous creature opposite her. When she had dreamed of having someone like him as her first lover, she had forgotten to factor her hopelessly ordinary self into the equation. It was all she could do to not bolt from the room in humiliation when she considered the glaring inequality between them.

That's why she sought out his imperfections as she studied him. She appreciated the slight asymmetry of his features; his nervous hair-twiddling; his caustic manner when her words struck a nerve. She was surprised to find that she wasn't at all interested in his perfect suit and matching manners. She was much more fascinated by the human flesh and blood beneath it, starting with that unruly hair atop his head. She longed to sink her fingers into it. Warmth seeped through her nether regions as she realized that for tonight, she was completely entitled to do so.

Her eyes drifted down from his golden-bronze mane to his pink lips as he politely chewed his tiramisu. She attacked her own, wondering if he would taste half as good as the dessert did. Maybe she could combine the two. She was well within her rights to simply lean over the table and eat the sugary confection right out of his mouth if she wanted to.

She did want to. She imagined pulling on his tie; ripping at his shirt. Sliding her hand under the waistband of his pants, then his briefs . . . Making him ditch his impeccable manners and take her right there on the dining room table.

Now _that_ would be a first time to remember.

But of course, she couldn't bring herself to do any of those things. She focused on her liquor-infused dessert instead, devouring mouthful after mouthful and washing it down with the increasingly delicious wine. She liked the mellow burn that permeated her belly as a result.

"This is delicious," she said by way of explanation after she caught his mildly disapproving stare.

"It is. Why don't you slow down and enjoy it?" he suggested with a laugh.

"Sorry," she mumbled as she slowed her chewing. She couldn't tell him the truth: that seeing him fall on his imperfectly perfect face was going to be a far more satisfying end to the meal for her.

Edward, on the other hand, refused to be rushed. He appreciated good food and wine far too much to inhale it. He wondered what her hurry was. Perhaps she was simply nervous over what would follow dessert. He was.

He deliberately savored a few more sips of cabernet, leaning leisurely back in his chair. He observed her coolly while she fidgeted. Was she really so eager to get this over with? She was behaving like her virginity was an embarrassing rash she couldn't wait to get rid of.

She began to shake slightly, and for a second he panicked, thinking she was having some sort of seizure. When he realized she was pumping her leg furiously under the table, he almost laughed out loud in relief.

He decided to take pity on her nerves. "What would you like to hear?" he asked, setting his wine glass down and pushing away from the table. She leapt to her feet before he could reach her chair to pull it out for her.

"Oh, anything," she said enthusiastically. "I have eclectic taste. Wow me."

_Wow_ her? No pressure there. He began to wonder if music was her minor in school. Maybe she was some sort of prodigy and was just waiting for him to eat her dust. He definitely got the impression that she was about to judge him on his musical prowess. That was a new one. Most women didn't give a damn about his prowess anywhere outside the bedroom.

"Well, I like to improvise," he said. "I play by ear, mostly."

He put his hand on her bare elbow to guide her back to the living room. A flood of goose bumps washed up and down her arm at his touch. Her cheeks reddened; he grinned. He liked her body's reaction to him. It gave him hope for the rest of the evening.

The pair took a sharp intake of breath as they entered the living area. The setting sun had flooded the room with a brilliant golden light that gleamed from every reflective surface within its reach. The rich cherry wood of the upright piano and its matching bench glowed with warmth, inviting them closer.

"This is nice," he murmured as he ran a finger over the ivory keys. He pulled out the piano bench and asked Isabella to have a seat. She perched on the left side of it, leaving him the right half. He removed his suit jacket and tossed it onto the nearby couch. He unbuttoned and rolled up his shirt sleeves and loosened his tie, then sat as close to her as he could yet still have room to play. When his skin brushed lightly against hers, every hair on his arm stood at attention.

That gave him even more hope for the rest of the evening.

He warmed up with a couple of simple scales, C to C, D to D, working both hands in unison swiftly up and down the keyboard. _Beautiful tone, _he thought. Perfectly in tune. This hotel would not offer anything less.

He glanced down at her to see her reaction. She appeared oddly disappointed, but he couldn't figure out why. Sure, the piano was no Steinway, but it was still a fine instrument. What in the world would it take to impress this girl?

He let his frustration drive him and he attacked the keyboard, choosing a passionate, slightly dissonant piece he'd learned years ago. Even as his fingers flew over the keys, striking them with ruthless and precise fury, he wondered what the hell he was doing. He had planned to play something soft and romantic for her. He had a sweet melody he'd composed for cases such as this, to coax shy girls out of their shells and make them trust him.

But Isabella Swan wasn't shy. She was simply quiet. Observant. Eerily so. He could not forget her sharp words earlier, forming an arrow so precise in its aim that he still smarted from the impact. He retaliated now, in his own way; "wowing" her so thoroughly that she would eat her words and choke on her smug smile. If she thought that he was some untalented pretty boy who couldn't play his way out of a paper bag, she could think again.

As he came to the end of the piece, he slowed, and breathed, and collected himself. He didn't like to reveal much of himself to clients, and music like this always brought his soul to the surface. He let the final chords of the song drift into a few extra bars of his own creation. He lingered there for a moment, playing a haunting melody that came unbidden to his mind and flowed out of his fingers seconds later in the usual, inexplicable way.

He felt her presence guiding him then: the simple warmth of her body so close to his, and the memory of that electric charge her touch had sparked through the hairs of his arm. He tried to capture that feeling in music before letting his hands fall limply to his lap.

He carefully turned his head to look at her; to read whatever message would be waiting for him in her eyes.

He was not disappointed. She gaped openly up at him, eyes glistening and wide with wonder. He had wowed her, all right, that much was clear. He felt a half-grin creep across his face, but something in her expression halted it before it grew haughty.

She was moved much more deeply than she ever could have anticipated. Her initial dismay that he hadn't been a liar after all was erased within seconds of his impassioned performance. She'd never seen or heard an outpouring of talent like this before, up close and personal. She could feel the tension radiating from his arms as they swept past her, his fingers a blur over the keys, impossibly accurate despite their swift pace. His whole body moved with the music, his foot rhythmically pumping the piano pedals. His face was contorted in concentration, eyebrows furrowed, lips pursed, eyes locked on some vision inside his own head.

He wasn't just good. He was "concert pianist" good. He was brilliant.

What on earth was he doing here?

She stared up at him, bewildered. None of this made sense. A man this gifted shouldn't be selling himself to the highest bidder for one forgotten evening after another. And she was certain that what his clients found memorable was scoured from his mind the minute the night was through.

She no longer cared if he was better-looking or more talented than she was. He was evidently just as disillusioned by life, just as stymied by fate. She could feel it when he played. He showed his true colors to her then, and everything else faded into the background.

Once again, he waited in vain for her to react. To say something; to do anything except sit like a bump on a log, staring at him with those enormous brown eyes.

"I can play something a little . . . nicer. More romantic, if you'd like," he offered. He reached for the keyboard and began to pick out his usual bland little melody, but he stopped short at the feel of her hand on his arm. She gripped his wrist firmly, stilling its motion.

"No," she commanded abruptly. "That was perfect. Amazing." Her eyes felt like arrows themselves now, piercing his, boring deep. "That was _you_."

He flinched, but couldn't look away from her knowing gaze. What the hell was he supposed to do now? She insisted on stripping away the pretenses that made what he did bearable. She responded only to the one thing he couldn't give her.

Edward Masen.

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><p><strong>Thanks again for all your support! Reviews, favorites and alerts are my life. ;)<strong>


	5. Chapter 5

**Stephenie Meyer created Edward and Bella. I decided to stick 'em in a hotel suite for awhile to see what would happen.**

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><p>Now Edward was the one who stared dumbly, frozen in place. He was at a loss. Bella's fingers still gripped his arm, burning into his skin like a brand. He was sure that when she released him, the mark would last indefinitely. He wanted to beg her to let go.<p>

By the time he was ready to beg her not to, she relinquished his arm, looking somewhat chagrined.

"I wish I had a talent like that," she said wistfully. "To be able to express what's inside so eloquently. You have an incredible gift."

He didn't like talking about gifts, especially when they were wasted. He was desperate to switch the subject back to her.

"You're too hard on yourself. I'm sure you have plenty of talents of your own."

She let out a soft snort. "Not like yours."

"I don't believe that," he argued. "What do you like to do in your spare time? What inspires you?"

A hesitant smile played at her lips. "Well, I do like to write a little."

Now he was getting somewhere. It was about time he pierced her armor, after she'd so thoroughly punctured his.

"What do you write?"

"Poems, mostly. Short stories." Her shrug was self-deprecating.

"Really? That's great," he encouraged. "Why don't you recite me one of your poems?"

She shook her head and her cheeks flushed the color of roses. "I don't have any memorized."

She looked up at him with those searching eyes again. He watched as they drifted over his features, pausing repeatedly on his lips. He found his own eyes following the same path over her face. He knew where it would lead.

"I'm sure you know something by heart," he insisted.

She took a deep breath. "Well, there is one poem that's kind of stuck in my head right now," she admitted.

"What is it?" he asked softly. His head dropped slightly, his face drawing closer to hers. Her chin lifted as she leaned up toward him.

"It's by a Swedish poet," she began. She bit her lip and took another breath, then began to recite the words.

"_My eyes want to kiss your face.  
>I have no power over my eyes.<br>They __just want to kiss your face.  
>I flow towards you out of my eyes,<br>a fine heat trembles round your shoulders,  
>it slowly dissolves your contours<br>and I am there with you, your mouth  
>and everywhere around you-<br>I have no power over my eyes." *_

She was the one trembling as she finished. She couldn't believe she had said those words to him; recited her favorite description of how she always thought true desire would feel. Of course, she left out the second stanza of the poem - the part that revealed the writer's desire was unrequited and from afar, a mere fantasy that had no hope of being turned into reality.

But her reality was staring down at her right now, close enough to touch, to kiss with more than just her eyes. The embodiment of the kind of desire she had only dreamed about sat mere inches away, within her grasp. At last she had found the catalyst to turn her poetic notions of romance into reality.

He stared at her, transfixed. He had never cared for poetry, but this wasn't the rhyming or pretentious kind. It was just . . . real. The words sounded raw and urgent in her quiet alto. He was used to women wanting to kiss him, but he'd never heard an entreaty like this. And he'd certainly never wanted to receive their kisses the way he wanted hers right now.

The wanting scared him a little. He wasn't used to it. He couldn't remember the last time he'd truly felt it. Not like this - this yearning deep in his gut, twisting his stomach and pulling at the root of his groin, swelling his cock with need when he hadn't even touched her yet.

His hand rose to her face to remedy that situation, tracing the blush of her cheekbone. Her skin was satiny smooth and soft under his fingertips. He let them stray over its creamy contours, down to her delicate neck. Her head tilted back slightly in response, her eyes closing briefly.

"So beautiful," he whispered at the sight of her beginning to give in to the sensation of his touch.

"Isn't it?" she replied. "It's one of my favorites."

She was talking about the poem. The corners of his mouth raised in amusement. She had no idea how much lovelier she was than any string of words could be.

She couldn't stop staring at his crooked grin, the left side of his lip raised in an Elvis-like smirk. She wanted to run her tongue along that pink ribbon of skin and memorize its moist contours.

He loved catching her in the act, watching her eyes reflect the sentiments of the poem. He could deny her no longer.

He felt like he was moving in slow motion as his face continued its purposeful descent toward hers, his fingers lifting her chin to meet him halfway. He couldn't wait to taste those full lips; yet the agonizing anticipation of that first contact was almost as delicious as the kiss itself. He prolonged the moment as long as he could, relishing the quickening of her breath and the fluttering of her lashes until her features became a blur to him.

She tried to stop the shuddering sigh that escaped her lips when they first met his, but it was no use. The tension consuming every cell of her body could no longer be contained. The exquisite feel of his lips on hers, soft yet firm, sent a swarm of tingles down her spine.

Why was this so different from any other kiss she had received? Maybe because it was thoughtful and deliberate; not hurried or impatient. He treated the kiss as if it were worth savoring in its own right, not as some annoying roadblock on his quest to get laid.

She pulled back slightly and gazed at the intensity in his eyes; felt his softly panting breath on her face. She was right about him. He did get it. He understood what was important. What was special.

She kissed him this time, anxious to build on the foundation of the first one. Her mouth opened against his, her tongue tentatively tracing his lips and pushing inside his mouth. The softest of moans escaped him as he responded in kind, lips caressing hers, tongue beginning a dance of exploration with her own.

Her hands were on his face before she knew what she was doing. His rough stubble under her fingers might as well have been the finest silk for the thrill it gave her. She stroked it gently at first, then more firmly, trailing her hands down the scruff of his neck to the line of his collarbone. She frowned slightly at the feel of his shirt collar in her way, and she slid her hands beneath it, only to have their progress impeded by the tie around his neck.

She broke their kiss long enough to grasp the knot of his tie and pull on it, loosening it until it came undone and fell to the floor beneath the piano bench. She needed to feel more of his warm skin under her greedy hands.

His breathing was heavy, his eyes wide with surprise as he stared down at her. The intensity of her reaction startled as well as aroused him. He assumed that she had come to him seeking something different than the crass groping of the boys she had known before, yet when he kissed her, she responded with passion and aggression. It didn't make any sense. Yet he certainly couldn't argue with her desires. He had no wish to.

He allowed her to begin to undress him while his hands buried themselves in her thick hair. He massaged her neck and scalp as he watched her nervous fingers fumble with his shirt buttons. He thought that maybe he should help her, but he wanted to see how far she would go on her own. Something had always stopped her before, or she wouldn't still be a virgin.

He slid his fingers gently down her neck and over her chest while she finished unbuttoning his shirt. He ran the tip of his index finger along her skin where it met the bodice of her silky blue dress, causing a trail of goose bumps to rise on her flesh. Her breath caught and she glanced up at him. Their eyes exchanged not just permission, but invitation. She exhaled shakily as she pulled his shirt tails from his trousers, leaving his bare torso glowing like burnished gold in the light of the setting sun.

She laid her hands on his chest; he inhaled sharply, his lungs expanding under her delicate fingers. She slowly explored the hard muscles beneath his rigid pink nipples, swirling her fingertips through the sparse tufts of hair that gleamed in the sunlight. She traced the planes of his abdominal muscles down to the soft skin of his belly, threading her fingers through the treasure trail of hair that sprouted below his navel and led to a noticeable bulge in his expensive pants.

She marveled that he wanted her already - that she had the power to turn him on so quickly. She tried to muster the gumption to let her hands travel further south, to stroke his hardness and feel it grow under her touch. But she stopped short, her nerves getting the better of her.

He sensed her hesitation and came to her rescue. He had figured out her pattern: rushing blindly ahead without any thought to the consequences, instead of taking her time and letting her mind catch up with her body's impatience.

"Come here," he said softly as he rose from the piano bench and reached for her hand. She laced her fingers through his and stood up, letting him lead her closer to the windows. He dropped her hand and placed both of his on either side of her face, marveling at how flawless she appeared in the unforgiving spotlight of a Seattle sunset.

"Let me look at you," he murmured softly, his eyes sweeping deliberately over her face, then down her body.

Her heart began to race at his slow perusal of her tiny frame. His eyes may as well have been his hands as he let them roam over the swell of her breasts under her dress's clingy fabric. She felt the sensation of their caress just as strongly as if it had been an actual touch.

He continued down her body this way, eyes studying the nip of her waist, the curve of her hips, the impossible length of her ivory legs.

"Turn around," he ordered softly, and her heart pounded even harder. She pirouetted slowly, awkwardly in her high heels, feeling his eyes like hot flames licking her body as she twirled. He managed to ravish her thoroughly from every angle without laying a hand on her, yet she shivered uncontrollably as though his fingers had stroked her from head to toe. She was desperate for the feel of them on her flesh. She had never wanted any man to touch her so badly. What she had recoiled from in the past, she knew she would now welcome with open arms, and legs.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?" he asked. He wondered how she had missed it all these years.

As she looked up at his face, carved by the light into a collection of masterfully sculpted curves and angles, she knew nothing could compare to his beauty.

He ran one finger down the length of her arm, delighting in yet another wave of goose bumps prickling her flesh. Her quick, shallow breaths in the quiet air were a heady aphrodisiac. He studied the rise and fall of her chest, and was irritated by the dress blocking his view. It was his turn to want to peel the offending garment from her and get to the silken warmth beneath.

He walked behind her, then pulled her hair to one side so that he could bend down and breathe directly in her ear.

"Will you do something for me if I ask you to?" he whispered.

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><p>*Excerpt from "The Lover" by Solveig Von Schoultz<p>

**I know, I know. How I could I stop there? Don't worry, I'll post the next chapter very soon. **

**Thanks for all the lovely comments, favorites and alerts. FFnet is currently failing to email me any notifications, but I'll be diligent about checking the site to make sure I thank you all! =)**


	6. Chapter 6

**Remember when I said I originally began writing this to enter in an erotica contest? Here comes the proof. Where Stephenie Meyer faded to black, I kept going, in a much more colorful fashion.**

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><p>Shockwaves barreled down Bella's spine at the vibration of his velvety voice in her ear. She was glad Edward was right behind her, to catch her in case his seductive assault of all her senses made her quake right out of her high heels and topple over.<p>

She nodded feebly, both terrified and thrilled at the prospect of whatever she had just agreed to.

"I want you to let go of all your inhibitions now," he instructed, his tone low and persuasive. Her quivering only increased as his voice continued to caress her ear and shimmer down her back. He placed his hands on her waist, drawing her body nearer.

"Whatever it is you're feeling, I want you to let yourself feel it. No holding back. No self-consciousness. No shame. Tonight is about letting go. Being whoever you want to be. Taking whatever you need."

His lips touched the corner of her jaw, right below her ear, as his arms wrapped around her. Her breath came out in a tiny sob. She could feel herself beginning to dissolve; to give in to the myriad sensations that pulsed through her body at the sound, the scent, the feel of him so close to her.

"Whatever held you back before is in the past. There's only you and me now, here, in this room. Nothing else matters."

As the words left his lips, he recognized their truth. Not just for her, but for him. He needed this as much as she did. Maybe more.

She nodded her consent again, and his arms tightened around her. He kissed her neck again and again, working his way down her shoulder to the strip of blue fabric that held up her dress. He reached one hand up to pull the material down, baring her shoulder to his hungry mouth. She collapsed against him, hot and pliable in his arms.

He could feel his own desires becoming more insistent, less patient. He slid his fingers down her hips, then pulled at her skirt until its hem was raised high over her legs, allowing his hands access to her silken thighs. He groaned softly as he ran his fingers up their curves and over her hips, his thumbs reaching back to the smooth skin of her bare buttocks. He pulled back slightly to view the lacey string of black material that separated her cheeks, and his breath came out in a raspy sigh. He slid both hands over her firm, round flesh, giving each cheek a squeeze.

She gasped at the warm grip of his hands on her bare skin. He swore softly in her ear, and her head fell back against his chest. He accepted her sign of submission and reached up to unzip the back of her dress before pulling it over her head.

She raised her arms and let him free her. Her body went rigid with excitement as the cool air and warm sun waged a battle over her tingling skin. She was ready for his eyes and hands on her again; ready for the throb between her legs to intensify into aching need.

He tossed her dress gently over his suit coat on the couch, then turned his attention back to the irresistible sight of her bathed in the deep amber of the setting sun. He walked slowly around her, studying her once more in painstaking detail.

Her alabaster skin was without flaw. Her freckles were so few that he could count them on both hands. The black bra she wore was designed to enhance her delicate cleavage; her skimpy panties made to reveal her stunning, tight ass. She was incredible. He wanted to drop to his knees and worship her; to bury his face between her legs until she screamed and sobbed and came harder than she'd ever come before.

But what did she want? He looked deeply into her eyes for the answer. Long-lashed drops of chocolate stared up at him, beckoning. Her breathing was labored, her chest heaving with the effort. The sound of it was a siren, calling to him. He came closer, trailing his fingers slowly up her arms, to her shoulders; then he reached around her to find the closure of her bra. He undid the measly hook with little effort and slowly pulled the satin and lace from her body, finally revealing her breasts to his grateful eyes.

He was too entranced to notice her blanch slightly and bite her lip. She was always nervous to be naked in front of a man, worried that she would be found lacking. Too small, too thin, not voluptuous enough. She took a deep breath and remembered his orders: no self-consciousness tonight. His expression told her that he was not disappointed in what he saw. She took comfort in that and tried to stand tall before him, even in the glare of an unrelenting sun.

He reached out to touch her; she braced herself for the feel of his hand on her breast. But he chose her chin instead, stroking her bottom lip with his thumb. He drew closer, staring down at her with those penetrating sea-colored eyes.

"I'll never forget the way you look right now," he said. "The way the sun plays over your body. . . your face." He shook his head, as though he could not find the right words.

Her head shook too, in mild disbelief. Clearly she had an effect on him. He couldn't be that good an actor. That's what she had to tell herself in order to do as he asked - to give in, to let go. She had to pretend that he would do the same.

She had no way of knowing that he was not pretending, even if he couldn't quite admit it to himself. If he assigned more significance to this evening than any of the others, he would not be able to go through with it.

But the self-deception was a thin disguise. He knew damned well how different this was, for both of them. He simply couldn't consider the ramifications after this night was over and their time together came to an end. She was here with him now, and she was his as much as he was hers.

He branded her with a kiss, hot and searing, possessive and greedy. She melted against him instantly, her bare skin next to his stoking the fire that burned between them. Her arms were around his neck, pulling him closer; his tight embrace lifted her right off the ground as their hungry mouths consumed yet still searched for more.

He effortlessly carried her the few steps it took to reach the couch and laid her back on the cushions. He stared down at her golden skin with an almost maddening lust as he yanked the shirt from his body and threw it to the floor. He fell upon her and she welcomed him without reservation, limbs opening to receive him as he settled into her soft curves.

He kissed her again, hard, and her passion easily matched his. _Slow down, _came a voice in the back of his mind. This was not the way to woo her. This was not his style. She had infected him with her impatience, her recklessness.

Oh, but she was too responsive for him to stop. Her hands gripped his hair just as fiercely; her arms held him just as tightly. She writhed beneath him, her body moving rhythmically with his. If they weren't still partially dressed, he'd already be inside her right now.

But wait. No, he wouldn't. This was her first time. He had to take things more slowly, for her sake, even if she didn't yet understand why.

He managed to rein himself in, moving his insatiable lips to the tender skin of her cheek, then her neck, then her chest. As he came closer to tasting the rosy peak of one ivory breast, she stilled beneath him, and her hands gentled in his hair. Her body's cues were all he needed to lessen his intensity to match hers. He slowed his pace further, his hand cradling the swell of flesh and stroking it softly before his mouth took its fill.

She gasped when his lips closed over her nipple, his tongue tickling the tip until it hardened under the tender assault. She squirmed with pleasure beneath him, amazed at the slow burn that crept through her groin as his mouth sucked and teased one breast, then the other. Her hands began to travel from his hair to his neck, down his broad shoulders and back, exploring the hard curves of muscle and bone that moved in tandem with his exploring mouth.

She let out an audible sigh when his lips left her breasts and worked their way south, leaving a trail of wet kisses down her belly. The closer he came to the lace edge of her panties, the more her body tensed in readiness. She couldn't wait for the feel of his mouth between her legs, even as anticipation stiffened her beneath his gentle touch.

"Relax," he murmured softly as he massaged her flat, rigid belly. He planted soft kisses all over her hips, her abdomen, the scrap of lace covering her sex. It was no use. She was as stiff as a board, stiff as his hard-on.

He returned to face level above her and looked into her anxious eyes. He stroked her cheek and smoothed her hair.

"You know I won't hurt you, don't you?" he said.

She nodded quickly; too quickly. He ran his fingers slowly over her full, pink lips. He imagined that when she opened her legs for him, he would be greeted with the exact same shade of pink.

"Have you ever had an orgasm before?" he questioned point blank.

Her eyes popped open wide in surprise. She couldn't believe he had asked her that. She didn't know how to respond. The truth was, she'd had plenty of orgasms. She'd discovered how to pleasure herself at the age of sixteen. The problem was, she'd never managed to have one with anyone else in the room.

Finally, she reluctantly nodded.

"Are you sure?" His tone was skeptical.

She glared up at him. "Yes, I'm sure," she replied acidly.

His crooked grin made a brief appearance. "That's good. I'm glad," he said, in all sincerity. "But the real question is, has any guy ever given you one? Or were they all self-induced?"

She stared at him, dumbfounded. "What are you, a mind-reader or something?" she blurted before she could censor herself.

His chuckle was warm rather than condescending. "From what I understand, that's pretty normal for a lot of girls at first. I want to change that, if you'll let me."

She did want that, more than anything. She nodded again in agreement.

"Do you remember what I asked you, about letting go of your inhibitions?" He didn't wait for her nod this time. "There's no room for self-consciousness here. Pretend you left it outside that hotel door. You can pick it up again in the morning if you think you still need it. But I don't think you will."

She didn't know what to say. He made it sound so easy. She was amazed at how tender his eyes were as he gazed down at her, when he had met her only an hour ago. How could he look at her like this? Like he really saw her, instead of looking through her, or seeing what he wanted to see.

And just like that, she was ready. Really ready this time.

She reached up to stroke his face, to trace the soft line of his lips. He was amazing. If God had handed her a paintbrush and asked her to design her own version of the ideal male, she could not have come up with anyone as perfect as the flawed man hovering expectantly over her.

There it was - the look he'd been waiting for all evening.

Trust.

He bowed his head to kiss her; reached out to touch her once more. He shifted his body slightly, leaning on one elbow next to her so that his other arm was free to explore. He was slow and gentle this time, caressing every inch of skin within reach. By the time he worked his hand back down to the string of underwear around her hips, she raised them to meet his touch. His fingers slid easily underneath the lace and satin, moving in time with the rhythmic pulse of her body undulating softly beneath him. Each time, he reached a little further down: to the trimmed, narrow triangle of hair; then over her smooth, hairless labia; then between them, stroking her clitoris; and finally to the slick opening of her vagina.

Her soft moans increased in volume with his explorations; her hips tilted upward, her legs parted wider. She was ready for him, and his throbbing cock knew it. It would have to wait its turn. His fingers were at the helm now, ready to slowly stretch her, fill her and make her ready for its girth, as much as possible. She was so wet with desire that the tip of his middle finger slid easily inside her with every pass. He began to drive it a little deeper each time, and she continued to lift her hips to meet him, pulling him in.

"That's good, isn't it?" he murmured in her ear, kissing her cheek.

"So good," she whispered back. She panted in time with the movement of his hand until his middle finger was all the way in, stroking her deep inside. Her body met every thrust of his finger while she whimpered softly in accompaniment.

"So sexy," he sighed as he watched her. "These panties are getting in my way, though. You don't mind if I remove them, do you?"

She let out a tiny cry of dismay as he removed his hand from her and raised himself up on his haunches. He gently pulled the g-string down her thighs, around the crook of her bent knees and over her feet, revealing her freshly-waxed pussy as he freed it from its lace prison. He smiled faintly that she would undergo a bikini wax for him, a total stranger.

Maybe she had sensed that in some ways, she would already know him better than anyone else did.

He tried not to stare at the perfection of the pink, glistening flesh between her parted thighs. His dick twitched, aching to be released from the confines of his pants and briefs, and allowed to explore the fertile playground so close by.

He fought his baser instincts and raised his eyes to meet hers again. Her cheeks flamed red with embarrassment, but she held his gaze, almost defiantly. He could see how hard she was trying not to shrink from him; not to give in to self-consciousness. Her legs were closing together, instinctively attempting to shield her vulnerability from his prying eyes and hands.

"If you had any idea how sexy you are to me right now, you wouldn't try to close yourself off from me," he said quietly.

He ran his fingers lightly up the front of her shins before resting them on her knees. His eyes never left hers as he slowly but insistently began to push her legs apart. Her ragged breathing started up again and she bit her lip, but he persisted. Gently, firmly he pressed his hands down the insides of her thighs, opening them up to him, further and further, until they gave way completely.

Her sigh was one of surrender as she lay spread open before him, utterly exposed in the now-scarlet rays of the sun. Her every nerve felt exposed as well, raw with a mixture of trepidation and excitement. She gazed helplessly up at him, thinking how much he resembled some kind of sun god that ancient peoples would have worshipped, his hair rising like fiery flames above his beautiful face. She counted on his benevolence now as she waited with bated breath for him to touch her again.

He felt the gravity of her resignation; the pull of her yielding to him. It was enormous, overwhelming.

"I promise you won't be sorry, Isabella," he said, his voice hoarse with the earnestness of his vow.

"Bella," she corrected him softly. "It's just 'Bella.'"

Her honesty nearly did him in. She had given him her real name from the start. And now she was giving him so much more. More than he could possibly deserve.

"Bella," he repeated reverently. He leaned down to find her cheek with his lips again. "Beautiful," he whispered its English equivalent in between gentle kisses across her face. And then, as they traveled down her long neck, "Beautiful swan."

She wanted to laugh, having felt the cruel irony of her name most of her ugly-duckling life. But the laugh caught in her throat and sounded only like a tiny cry of pleasure as his mouth began to explore the length of her body again, inching closer to that wet, yearning place between her thighs. She let the remnants of mortification burn hot in her cheeks as his tongue teased the sparse bit of hair she'd instructed the bikini-wax technician to leave behind, just so she wouldn't feel entirely bare.

And then, she took a deep breath and did what she feared was impossible.

She let go.

Her legs fell limply open, her damp flesh vulnerable and waiting beneath the hot breath of his mouth. Her fingers toyed with his hair, unable to keep still as her nerves tried to catch up with her resolve. She braced herself for the feel of that wet tongue on her quivering flesh, growing more eager for its ascent as the seconds passed.

He delayed the inevitable, moving his mouth to the creamy skin of her inner thighs instead. Kissing, licking, nipping softly, closer and closer to her sex, but not quite touching her most sensitive parts.

As he turned his attention from her left leg to her right, her building frustration outweighed her fear. Her body began to dance ever so subtly, pelvis lifting, legs straining to push her hungry pussy toward his face.

He thrilled to her awakening, as arousal defeated her reluctance. He doubted she even realized her hands were pushing his head gently toward the promised land. Her scent intoxicated him - pungent but sweet. The unmistakable smell of desire. The bright pink flesh of her sex was tantalizingly close, begging to be tasted.

He gave in to his need and hers, touching the tip of his tongue to her swollen hood. Her gasp was audible, a cry of intense pleasure. He sought to intensify the sound by flicking his tongue over her sensitive flesh, then licking more firmly, lapping at the tender skin until she was sobbing softly.

She was delicious. Insanely so. He tried to remember if anyone before her had tasted or smelled this good to him, and he was sure the answer must be "no." He rarely performed oral sex on his clients anyway, demanding a clean bill of health from their doctors before agreeing to the deed. But he knew there was no need for such precautions with the gorgeous girl lying before him.

He exhaled loudly and it sounded primal, almost a growl. Her hands tightened in his hair, fingers gripping his skull, and he gave in to her involuntary response.

He let his mouth roam freely now, lips sucking and pulling at hers, tongue probing up and down every surface of her sex until it pushed into her wet opening. Her sighs of approval continued, and so did he, tonguing her deeply, tasting her hot cream and tickling her flesh with his beard.

She massaged his scalp and undulated helplessly beneath him. She had never felt anything like this in her life. She had always been too embarrassed to let things go this far; to allow another human to see her, let alone taste her, this intimately and completely. But Edward was right - there was no room for self-consciousness anymore. It took too much effort to feel it. Every ounce of her energy was concentrated in the nerve endings between her legs, being stimulated so thoroughly by his hot, hungry mouth that she could do nothing but revel in the resulting sensations that shook her.

He marveled at her receptiveness now. He watched with fascination, and growing lust, as she came undone beneath him. She was ready for more, and his hands answered the call. He pulled her labia wide as he tongued her mercilessly. When she cried out at the intensity, he massaged her firmly with his fingers, increasing the speed until her groans grew more guttural and her opening dripped with need.

He took advantage of her heightened desire by pushing two fingers into her this time. He slid his middle and ring fingers slowly but insistently into her tight vagina. Its walls resisted slightly, but were unable, unwilling, to stop the intrusion.

She gasped at the sensation - not quite pain, not quite yet pleasure. His fingers were so much bigger than her own. Thicker, longer. She wasn't used to this mush pressure inside her, and she whimpered as he slowly moved his fingers, twisting them slightly, then pushing in and out in a lethargic rhythm until her body relaxed and began to respond. When her hips pushed against him, meeting his gentle thrusts, he knew that he was halfway home.

He knelt and tickled her again with his tongue as he increased the rhythm and pressure of his fingers. He gauged her responsiveness by the movement of her body, the flush of desire across her chest, her eyes closing and head falling back as she continued to moan softly without cease. And when she was ready, he switched his ring finger for his thicker index finger, plunging it along with the middle until both were buried inside her wet heat.

She gasped again as he stretched her, and the muscles of her belly tensed in protest. But within minutes, she was rocking in time with his ministrations once more. She had no more control over her body, it seemed. He played her as masterfully as he had played the piano, and his music swelled within her until it was all she could feel.

"God, yes," she heard herself exclaim as the motion of his hands and mouth increased in both speed and intensity. She could feel the burn beginning - the beginning of a climax stirring deep within her.

He felt it, too, and he was enthralled. He followed her lead instinctually now, fingering her harder and faster; wishing it was his dick doing the work, but too entranced by her impending orgasm to stop.

He became reckless then and pushed his ring finger back inside her with the others. She cried out in that maddening mixture of pleasure and pain, but he knew her pain would be short-lived. He was sure of her body's compliance now, and even surer of its impending ecstasy. He was going to make her come like she'd never come before. Maybe he could even make her come through intercourse, now that he had stretched her this much. There was no telltale blood; no sign of her virginity's demise other than the tight resistance that his fingers had encountered and conquered. She hadn't been lying about pleasuring herself before.

She hadn't lied about anything.

He couldn't allow himself the indulgence of his own guilt. This moment was about her. And she was glorious in those last minutes before the climax shook her body. Her skin glistened with a thin sheen of sweat in the dying embers of the sun. Her face and chest were pink with exertion, her nipples taut with pleasure, her pussy swollen and wet from being so thoroughly worked over.

"Christ. So fucking beautiful," he murmured, his blasphemy a coarse and inadequate expression of what he was truly feeling as she writhed before him. She made a few oaths of her own as she bucked under the motion of his relentless hand. She grasped the pillows behind her, her head fell back, her eyes squeezed shut. The moment was at hand.

His tore himself from his watchful trance long enough to lower his mouth to her sex. His tongue flickered rapidly across the erect flesh of her clitoris and her body surged upward as it contracted within, muscles gripping his fingers in wave after wave of euphoria. She sobbed and cursed, and it was the most beautiful melody he'd ever heard. She shook and trembled for a prolonged moment, then finally collapsed, panting and spent, on the couch cushions.

He felt dazed, even stunned, as he gazed down at her. No woman's orgasm had ever affected him like this. He was at a loss.

But Bella was found. The phrase "seeing stars" came to her mind as the blood pounded in her ears and coursed through her body. Nothing she had ever experienced at her own hands came close to this. This was . . . otherworldly. An out-of-body experience. Except that her body was so fully engaged in what Edward had just done to her that she'd never felt so completely in tune with it in her life. In the past, her mind had always been detached, never fully able to be a part of the physicality of sex. But either he had rendered her thoughts null and void, or he had made them part and parcel of her ecstasy, she wasn't sure which.

She didn't care anymore. Maybe that was the real test. And the real victory, for both Edward and her sexuality.

She was free.

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><p><strong>I could use a little of that kind of freedom myself right about now. TMI? *shrugs* <strong>

**P.S. My Twitter peeps are mightly persuasive! I didn't intend to post this quite so soon, but I'm a pushover for all that begging. ;D**


	7. Chapter 7

**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight. I own all things Agreement, 'cept for those characters I borrowed to play with. **

**Speaking of playing, you didn't think these two were done with their tryst on the couch, did you? . . . **

* * *

><p>Bella stared up into Edward's fevered gaze. She wondered if she looked as different as she felt now. He looked the same, only sexier, if that was possible. His lids were heavy, his eyes dark with desire. He was still wanting, still hungry. Hungry for her. Waiting for her to fulfill his own needs.<p>

She pulled herself upright and reached for him, laying her hand across the warm coarseness of his jaw. Her thumb traced the sheen of his cherry-red lips. She marveled at the color, the texture of them. What man had lips like this? She leaned in and pressed her mouth to his, not caring that he smelled of her sex; not caring that she was tasting herself. She cared only about giving him what he had just given her - uncensored, selfless pleasure.

He made a throaty, animal sound as her tongue slid into his mouth. His arms went around her immediately, pulling her closer while their mouths collided and consumed again. Her hands were hesitant no more, unabashedly ravishing his body, reveling in its hard heat under her fingertips. She gave in to her greed, and their mutual need; he pulled her closer with an insistence of his own.

They gasped for breath in unison when their kisses demanded too much of them. Her eyes fell to the hill of his Adam's apple, then the valley of his throat; her lips and tongue soon followed. He tasted of salt and sweat and spice, and she had her answer as to whether dessert could have compared to him.

Nothing could compare to him.

Her fingers splayed over his chest, reveling once more in the soft flesh and hair concealing the hard muscle beneath. Her eyes drank in his physicality, noting its every perfection and defect. He was long and lean; strong but not overtly athletic; masculine but not obscenely muscular. His flesh and bone were bequeathed from his ancestors and God, not supplements or wasted hours at the gym. She was amazed at the revelation that his vanity had such limits; thrilled that he cared so little about enhancing his physique. She realized she found him more beautiful than she had ever imagined him to be under that suit.

He was real.

Her own nakedness was forgotten as she lost herself in his. Her hands and mouth traveled the length of his long torso, kissing and licking, caressing and massaging every inch of his flesh with a hunger that astonished them both. His moans were uncensored as he watched and felt her body slide slowly down his own, her soft skin pressing against his, her nimble fingers, lips and tongue taking their fill of him. By the time her knees met the floor between his ankles, his dick pulsed with anticipation, straining against the fabric of his pants, ready to enjoy the sweet explorations of her mouth and hands.

Her momentum slowed when her wandering lips and fingers reached the waistband of Edward's expensive gabardine pants. This was the time she had always chickened out before. With the few random guys she'd picked up at last year's parties; with Jake this summer. She'd get as far as fumbling around in a guy's jeans and stroking his erection, but then she'd lose her nerve entirely. She would always panic at the thought of the next step, whether it was to administer a blow job or lose her virginity. She simply hadn't been ready.

She hated that she hadn't been ready. It seemed like everyone around her had been ready long before her, or they'd simply been brave enough to go ahead with it regardless. She took a deep breath now and mustered her courage.

_You're almost twenty, _a voice in her head admonished. _Act like an adult._

"Bella."

Edward's quiet voice met her ears like velvet through a fog. She realized she'd been staring at the navy blue outline of his erection, her fingers frozen on the closure of his pants. She cleared her head and looked up at him.

"You don't have to do this."

His voice was as gentle as his eyes, glimmering darkly in the deep scarlet rays of the setting sun. He reached down and stroked her hair, then her face.

"This night is about you. What you want. What you need. Nothing else."

God, but he was perfect. How could he be so perfect? She knew she'd paid him well to say all the right things, but something in his expression looked so sincere that she found herself believing the unbelievable - that he meant what he said.

And once again, she knew that she was ready now. Ready for him. _He_ was the difference between now and all those times before.

"I want you," she said softly, her emphasis on the last word. "I need you."

He stared at her, speechless. It wasn't the words she said so much as the way she said them. They weren't just platitudes to stroke his ego and reassure him. They were as naked and honest as she was. He had no idea why she would need him. She didn't even know him. He still couldn't understand why having sex was so important that she would hire a stranger to do it.

But she didn't feel like a stranger to him, and her words, her eyes, told him she felt the same.

Her gaze was still fixed on his as she lowered one hand over his crotch, examining the hard bulge beneath the fine fabric. He took a deep breath, then expelled it noisily when she rubbed her hand back and forth over the length of him.

"I want to make you feel the way you just made me feel," she said, stroking him harder through his pants. "I need you to tell me what you like."

He stifled his groan of disbelief. Why did she insist on making this about his pleasure? He wished she were more selfish with her money and her time. He could handle that much better.

"I like you," he answered truthfully. "You don't need to return any favors tonight."

"I want to," she replied adamantly. He didn't seem to understand how much she needed to face her fears head on. She almost laughed at the double-entendre as the palm of her hand cupped the head of his gabardine-covered cock. She decided it was high time she freed him, and herself.

Her fingers no longer fumbled as she unhooked the tab closure and unzipped the navy fabric. Looking up at his dark, desirous gaze, she needed no more encouragement. She pulled at the waistband while he obligingly lifted his hips off the couch so that she could pull his pants down, over his thighs, then his knees. She let the fabric bunch around his ankles and wrapped her fingers around the muscles of his calves instead. She ran her hands slowly up his legs, over the soft, light brown hair that covered his pale skin. She slowed further when her palms met the solid muscles of his thighs, and she took her time examining the sinewy feel of them beneath her fingers.

His breath came heavily, his nostrils flaring slightly as she came closer to the legs of his boxer-briefs. She slid her fingers underneath, stroking his legs, pushing the stretchy fabric up toward his groin. She could plainly see the outline of him now under the black cotton, and her breath caught for a moment.

_That thing's going to split me in two_. This was her first thought as she gaped at the length and girth of Edward's erection, barely contained beneath the flimsy material of his underwear. Of course, that's what she'd thought every time she'd ever laid eyes or hands on any penis in the past. All four of them, to be exact.

She knew that was part of her problem. She was a chicken. She didn't like pain, or blood. But after her humiliating experience with Jake a few weeks ago, she had come to regard her virginity as a band-aid that was in need of a swift yank. An act that would cause intense and unavoidable, but hopefully brief, pain.

She took another deep breath to clear her thoughts. She would worry about that later. Right now, she wanted to explore. Her curiosity finally got the better of her fear as she stared at the bulge being strangled by its cotton confines. Edward had done amazing, unbelievable things to her just moments ago without her even asking. He deserved to experience those things in return, no matter what he said. She only hoped she could rise to the challenge.

"Bella, it's okay," his voice drifted softly to her again through the fog. His fingers played lightly with her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder, baring one breast. Her nipple was taut and ready; and so was she.

"It's not okay," she said with a slight frown. "But it will be."

She removed her fingers from under the legs of his underwear and grasped the waistband instead. She pulled on it decisively, and once again he lifted his body to assist her. The cotton came down; his dick sprang up. It pointed straight up at her chin, pulsing slightly, impatiently. For the first time in Bella Swan's life, she was face-to-face - or rather face-to-crotch, she mentally corrected herself - with a fully exposed erection. As she gaped at it, she realized she wasn't afraid anymore.

She was fascinated.

She studied its anatomy in the rich scarlet rays of the sunset, its pale hues darkening as the light waned. She had no idea how long or thick it really was, in terms of inches; she only knew that it looked enormous to her when she contemplated the ways in which she might tame it.

She also found it oddly beautiful, rising from Edward's body like some flesh and blood monolith: a monument to his masculinity, and a tribute to her desirability. It bobbed and twitched slightly as his blood pumped relentlessly through it; its tip glistened faintly in the last flames of sun. _She_ had made him this way - had turned a flaccid vessel into an engorged demigod demanding satisfaction.

And she would be the one to satisfy him.

She had no real idea how she would accomplish such a thing, but she was determined to succeed. It couldn't be that difficult. She had watched plenty of videos that showed her what to do. But this was definitely the first time that she had ever wanted to do the things she had seen on her computer screen.

She was amazed that her first instinct was to touch her tongue to that throbbing tip. But she allowed her fingers first access, since they were closer, and already creeping toward the base of Edward's engorged member. The minute they closed around his silky flesh, he emitted a sound so guttural that her grip on him immediately tightened.

Her eyes raised to his as she slowly pushed her right fist up the length of his shaft to the tip, then back down again. His breathing grew heavier, as did his gaze. She was bringing something primal to the surface, and not just in him, she realized. She liked the feeling it gave her - powerful, visceral. She pumped her hand up and down, relishing the feel of velvet skin over rigid heat. She traded hands so the left could enjoy the sensation; then gently squeezed his balls with the right.

Edward groaned and his eyes clamped shut for a moment; but they opened again quickly, too enraptured by the vision of Bella's hands on him to miss more than a moment of it. He had thought he would go mad while was deliberating whether or not she could go through with this. For a split second, he felt pity for the boys she had unwittingly teased to the brink of insanity with her virgin's anxiety. By the time her hot little hands finally wrapped themselves around him, his relief nearly matched his arousal.

She experimented until she figured out the rhythm he craved, noting his breath coming quicker to match the pace of her hands as they pumped his desperate cock. He stared hungrily at her over the rise and fall of his laboring chest, mentally begging her to wet him with her tongue before he began to chafe. But he didn't want to start giving her directions and risk making her feel inadequate. He closed his eyes again at the thought of her mouth on him, and he moaned softly in frustration.

She was enthralled with the soft sounds that filled the quiet air - his animal grunts and pants; the friction of his skin against hers as she stroked him. But something was missing. The feel, the noise, the taste of wetness.

She gave in to her initial instinct and pressed the tip of her tongue to the swollen tip of his cock, then lapped at the salty fluid she found there. She found that she rather liked the taste, not to mention the sensation of his velvety-soft skin against her tongue.

Edward's groan was louder, slightly higher-pitched this time, and she was euphoric. She swirled her tongue around the entire head, tracing and tickling its outlines, while her fist gently twisted the shaft. His gaze grew even darker, smoldering with want and need in the deepening shadows of twilight. The impending darkness drove her further, and she let her mouth roam freely now: tongue licking him up and down, lips closing over him, mouth pushing down, taking him deeper inside.

"Fuck," he hissed, his hips raising, unable to keep from thrusting gently into that hot, wet orifice. She had gone from zero to sixty in only a few minutes, but he was enjoying the ride too much to tell her to slow down. She didn't seem to care, either, sucking him in and out, letting his cock reach further down her throat as she worked. If she really hadn't done this before, then she was a natural, he thought to himself. He resisted the urge to take her head in his hands and fuck her mouth in earnest.

He buried his hands in his own hair instead, then watched in shock and awe while she worked him over with her fingers and her gorgeous mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he was this turned on watching a woman go down on him. Maybe it was the fact that he usually wore a condom that was the difference. Maybe it was the idea that these were virgin lips on him - that his cock was invading uncharted waters, and he was her first real and literal taste of a man.

He knew, somehow, that it was more than these things. But he couldn't allow himself to consider the other implications right now. Hell, he was having trouble thinking at all. He wanted to come. He was desperate to. He wanted to claim and mark that unspoiled territory by spilling his seed, with a testosterone-driven urgency as old as mankind.

"Bella," he whispered hoarsely, feeling the need to warn her. Her lips were wrapped around him, swallowing him, owning him.

She blinked and released him, surprised to hear him speak. She was amazed at how absorbed she had become in his rapture. The more he lost control, the more she reveled in the heady power and pleasure it gave her. She was amazed that she had been so reticent to do this to a boy before. She was intoxicated by the musky smell, taste and feel of his manhood throbbing in time to the rhythm of her hands and mouth. She wanted to make him erupt. She couldn't wait to drink every drop.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him questioningly.

"Stop, baby. You're going to make me come." He reached down and ran his fingers through the silky hair at her temples.

She almost laughed. "That's the idea, isn't it?"

"Yeah, but not like this. Not in your mouth," he whispered, though his tone was unconvincing.

She squeezed and stroked and massaged every part of him between her hands, with just the right amount of pressure to make him whimper once more at the unbearably intense sensations.

"That's exactly where I want you to come," she informed him.

He shook his head in mild disbelief. Was she for real? His hesitant little virgin suddenly wanted him to unload in her mouth? He began to wonder if she wasn't a theater major in school. Maybe this had all been an elaborate act. But his hormones were too hopped up at the moment for him to care about her motivations. Right now, he and Bella both wanted the same thing. He could come up with no argument for that.

He closed his eyes and succumbed to her hot hands and hotter, wetter mouth. He felt the throb in his cock begin to churn; felt the heat ignite to a flame at the base of his groin. She seemed to sense his impending eruption, for her hand began pumping him furiously, fingers stimulating the head with each pass. He hadn't realized his hands were still in her hair until now, when his fingers gripped her skull at the onset of his orgasm.

The minute he cried out in release, her hand was gone and her mouth replaced it. He muttered a string of incoherent obscenities at the sensation of her tongue cradling his cock as it pulsed with stream after stream of ejaculate. He forgot how incredible it could feel to explode like this inside a girl, no barriers between them, physical or otherwise. No guilt, no shame. Just sweet submission. He watched her drink him down and his surrender was complete.

He ran his fingers through Bella's hair once more, stroking her scalp, memorizing the sight of her beautiful face as she finished him off. He found himself fighting back tears, and he didn't know why. His head fell back on the couch and he closed his eyes. He couldn't look at her anymore or he would do it - he'd fucking break down and start crying like a baby.

Over a blow job.

What the hell had she done to him?

Bella tried hard not to grimace as she quickly swallowed his every emission, then gently licked him clean. She had not been prepared for his semen to taste so . . . well, if not _bad_, exactly, definitely not good. But the ecstasy on his face, in his voice, and pulsing through every inch of his body, was definitely worth it. She felt every bit as euphoric at what she had just done to him as what he'd done to her.

She felt even now. In a good way.

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><p><strong>Thanks so much, everyone, for all the love on Twitter and in your reviews, favorites and alerts here. I'm excited, overwhelmed, maybe even a little freaked out. But like Bella just said, "in a good way."<strong> **:)**


	8. Chapter 8

**Stephenie Meyer brought us Twilight. Here's one version of what happened after night fell.**

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><p>Bella took a moment to remove Edward's socks and shoes, and to throw his pants over her discarded dress on the end of the sofa. He stared down at her with a dazed expression while she rendered him as naked as she was.<p>

Her lips curved into a grin as she returned to kiss the tender skin at the crux of his thighs and torso. She worked her tongue up the 'V' of his belly, tracing the indentation of flesh on one hip, then the other. When she planted kisses over his abdomen, he sighed contentedly and massaged her scalp.

Encouraged, she kissed her way up his stomach and chest, rising to her feet. She placed one knee next to his thigh on the couch, then the other knee on his opposite side, until she was straddling his body with her own. Eye-to-eye now, she met his groggy gaze with her anxious one.

"Was I okay?" she asked, biting her lip.

He almost snorted in disbelief, but managed to keep it to an exasperated chuckle instead. "'Okay' is not the word I would use to describe what you just did to me," he told her. His fingers continued their reassuring massage under her hair. "'Amazing' or 'incredible' might come a little closer. How am I supposed to believe you've never done that before?" he demanded, suspicion seeping into his tone.

"I swear I haven't," she promised. "I might have watched a video or two to get some pointers," she admitted somewhat sheepishly.

"Hmm." His hands drifted down to her neck, stroking her gently. His brain cells were slowly coming back to life now that the blood had coursed through them again. "Seems like you've been doing your sex homework, preparing for the big moment."

"I guess so." Her cheeks reddened again, and it made him crazy. How could she still be bashful after what she'd just done to him? But he liked it. He liked it far too much. It made him want to end her virginity in some ludicrously epic way, on a bed of rose petals while violins played, culminating in a bed-shaking orgasm the likes of which Bella would remember for the rest of her life.

He knew it would be nothing like that. More likely, he'd be lucky if she didn't cry in pain through the whole ordeal.

He sighed and leaned in to kiss her, tasting the bitter remnants of his release on her lips. He winced slightly and kissed her again. Why did he feel like he was tainting her? Ruining her, somehow? Changing her irrevocably, for the worse, he feared.

"You are amazing," he reiterated, sliding his hands down to cradle her narrow back and pull her closer. "Don't change. Promise me."

She frowned and stared into his eyes, trying to understand what he was asking of her. "I can't promise that. Everyone changes. Every day. That's what life is."

He sighed again and stroked her face. He memorized her sweet brown eyes, the way they questioned him. Naïve, despite her words. He kissed the ivory silk of her face, over and over, every inch. Forehead, eyelids, cheeks, nose, chin, lips. He knew he would leave no part of her untouched tonight. He couldn't stop himself from completing her thorough violation - couldn't quell the maddening desire to leave his mark on her. In her.

He didn't quite realize he was only trying to equal the indelible impression she'd already left on him.

They sat entwined on the sofa as twilight deepened to night. The sun's red hues had retreated, allowing a cool blue to envelop the room. Bella shivered slightly as Edward's hands strayed down her back, and he knew it was time for them to move.

"Let me get you a bathrobe," he whispered at last, reluctantly lifting her off of him and depositing her in the corner of the couch. He gave her a gentle kiss and disappeared to what she assumed was the bedroom. She pulled the nearest pillow over her nakedness and hugged it close, feeling the warmth of Edward's body lingering in its satin cover. She had felt like she was wrapped in a soothing cocoon with his arms around her, his solid thighs beneath her. She loved the sensation. She had never dreamed the closeness of a man could feel so good, so inviting instead of threatening.

He returned quickly, holding out a hotel-issued robe of thick terry cloth while she stood long enough to put her arms into its sleeves. Edward was already snugly encased in a robe of his own, and he looked adorable, his hair mussed into chaos above the cozy fabric. She grinned stupidly up at him as he pulled her own robe close around her body and wrapped its tie into a secure knot.

"Better?" he asked when he was through. "You're not cold, are you?"

She shook her head wordlessly. She didn't know how to explain just how warm he made her.

"I'm going to light a few candles and brighten it up in here," he said, kissing her forehead before wandering off to the kitchen. He reappeared with the wine and a box of matches. He began lighting the decorative candles scattered throughout the room, and when he was satisfied with the result, he refilled their wine glasses and returned to the couch.

"Do you want to hang your dress up?" he asked, nodding his head toward the pile of their discarded clothes taking up residence on the far side of the couch.

"No, it's fine." She liked the fact that her dress was sandwiched between the pieces of Edward's suit.

He shrugged and handed her a glass of cabernet, then sat close to her, his body turned toward hers. She curled her feet up under her and touched her glass to his. They both said "cheers" and took a sip.

She fought the urge to giggle at how odd it felt to be acting like such a grown-up, the way adults behaved in movies. But wasn't that what she had wanted so badly? To get away from the chronic disappointment of wild parties with drunken, obnoxious boys?

She thought back with a shudder to the last big summer bash near her hometown of Forks, a mere two weeks ago. She'd never been so angry and humiliated in her life. Where did Jake get off, turning their private moment into a public spectacle? And a spectacle was exactly what she felt like after she'd returned to the bonfire, only to be greeted with whispers and snickers behind her back. Jake had made her a laughing stock.

But with Edward sitting next to her in this beautiful hotel room, pouring her glasses of what was probably outrageously expensive wine, she felt like she was getting the last laugh.

"You okay?" he asked, observing the perturbed look on her face.

"Yeah, I'm great," she insisted at once, painting on a smile.

He saw through it. "You want to tell me what you were thinking?"

She was beginning to see that she couldn't get much past him. "It's not important." She shrugged and took a sip of wine.

"Why don't I believe that?" He looked into her eyes; they were guarded. "Tell me," he coaxed.

She considered for a moment, then decided to trust him. "I'm just thinking how different you are from the guys I've known."

"Is that a good or a bad thing?"

"Good. _Very_ good." Both of their smiles grew.

"It's true - not every guy is as well-endowed as I am," he joked with a cocky smirk.

She giggled and blushed again, which was what he was after.

"That's not what I was talking about, although there is a grain of truth to that." His eyebrow raised, but he let her continue. "I mean the way you treat me, like a lady. Even after . . . everything we just did."

He scowled at her words. "Why wouldn't I treat you like a lady? Enjoying great sex doesn't make you anything less. Don't let some jackass tell you otherwise. Any guy with a virgin/whore complex isn't worth your time."

"Thanks," she said, heat flooding her cheeks once more. "But it's not that. It's more the opposite. You know . . . guys pressuring me to give in, and then making fun of me or getting pissed off when I couldn't follow through."

Edward's frown deepened. "Who are these assholes you've been going out with?" he demanded.

"They're _boys_, Edward," she said, as if stating the obvious. "They just want what all boys want, and they usually don't care much about how they get it."

He shook his head sadly. "Some guys care," he said. "And some want more than to just use a girl for sex. Keep looking until you find one worthy of you. Don't settle, Bella." He reached out and took her chin in his hand, stroking it gently with his thumb. "You don't need to settle."

She stared at him, wondering what planet he came from. Wondering if there was some kind of escort handbook to tell him the right things to say to a girl in any given situation.

"That's why I chose you," she said softly.

It was his turn to stare. How did she do that? Grab his heart in her fist so effortlessly, then squeeze until it nearly brought tears to his eyes.

He slid his hand up the side of her face, stroking one perfect rose-colored cheek. He had no more words, and was certain he couldn't choke them out if he did. So he chose the wordless language of a kiss, hoping it could adequately express his gratitude. He couldn't understand why she refused to see that choosing him was the epitome of settling. Why she would consider him the sole recipient worthy of her virginity, when they both knew he was nothing but a paid . . .

_Whore. _

The word reverberated in his head. He pulled back from Bella and let his hand drop from her face. He brought his other hand, the one with the wine glass, up to his mouth to take a hefty swig.

"Okay, your turn," she announced. He glanced at her shrewd, knowing eyes.

He played dumb. "For what?"

"To tell me what you're thinking."

He tried to fob off his grin as nonchalant. "What, are we going to play Twenty Questions now?"

"That's an excellent idea, actually," she exclaimed, her eyes brightening in the candlelight. "I'll go first. Why did you pull away from me just now?"

_What the hell? _How had he managed to get himself into this?

He hedged a bit, then said, "Because I think you have an unrealistic view of me."

"How so?"

"That's two," he warned her. "Two questions. And the answer is, you seem to think I'm more worthy of being with you tonight than the guys who came before me. And I'm not. Probably less so."

Her brows squeezed together, forming a tiny line on the bridge of her nose. He found it disconcertingly adorable.

"I disagree," she said bluntly. "It doesn't matter anyway, because it's my choice to make. I chose you, and now I know why."

Her candor was driving him crazy. His lip twitched slightly before he gave in to her challenge. "Okay, I'll bite. Why?"

"That's _your_ second question. I'm counting the first one, that started all this." Before he could protest, she continued, "Every word you say proves to me why you're the perfect choice, and you don't even know you're doing it. Which is really pretty cute, considering how much older and more experienced you are."

"I'm not that much older," he grumbled.

"How old are you? Did you lie on your Renaissance profile?"

"I didn't lie at the time. But I haven't updated it since I joined the agency two years ago," he admitted with a sheepish grin. "I just turned twenty-four a couple of months ago. And that was two more questions, by the way."

"What?" she exclaimed indignantly. "That was not. The second was merely an extension of the first. Like a sub-question."

"Nice try, but no. That was two questions," he insisted. "So, are you really nineteen?"

"Yes," she said, still pouting. "But I'll be twenty in a few weeks. Which is one of the reasons I did this." She gestured to the room, to him. "I don't want to be a twenty-year-old virgin."

He couldn't hold back his laughter this time. "You make it sound like you're one step away from having a comedy filmed about you at your expense."

"It's a slippery slope," she insisted crossly. "One day you're so nervous about sex that you push every guy away at the last minute, and the next, you're filing for single-status Social Security so you can continue to feed your half-dozen pet cats."

She ignored Edward's second outburst of laughter and continued. "Maybe that sounds crazy, but I just couldn't stand the thought of being in my twenties and still being a virgin. I mean, I'm finally leaving my teenaged years behind, and I want to leave all the stupid insecurities and fears and awkwardness behind with them. I want my twenties to be different. _I_ want to be different." Her expression was determined, almost defiant. "I _am_ going to change, Edward. Whether you like it or not."

His chortles subsided quickly; he studied her soberly now. She meant what she said. Her teenaged years obviously hadn't been kind, but whose had?

"I know you're going to change," he said. "I just don't want you to hurry it along. It's going to happen faster than you know anyway. Trust me."

She gave him that typical teenaged look of uncomprehending impatience.

"I wish you could see how special you are right now, where you are. _Who_ you are. That's all," he added quietly.

Her eyes watered with emotion, and then she abruptly grinned. "You just did it again."

He looked confused for a moment, then smiled as he caught her meaning. "Well, I don't want you to suffer from buyer's remorse after this is all over."

She frowned. She didn't like thinking about her time with him coming to an end.

He misunderstood her expression. "But if you're having second thoughts, don't hesitate to tell me. I mean that."

"I'm not," she said quickly. "Not at all. Not even a little."

He shook his head and wondered where her common sense was. She had no right, no reason, to be so sure about him. But he knew he would do his best not to let her down. Maybe that's what she sensed about him that made all of this okay for her. He guessed that it was more guarantee than she'd received from any of the guys in her life before him.

"So, when's your birthday?" he asked, reaching back for a lighter topic.

"September thirteenth. When's yours?"

"June twentieth." He stopped and did a mental calculation. "That's five questions for you, four for me. So now I get to catch up." He puzzled for a moment and then voiced what he'd been wondering all night. "What's your major in college?"

"English, right now. I think. I like art, too, but I'm not very good at it. And I'm kind of a science geek, so I sometimes think I'd like to be a biologist or chemist. There's better money in that, but there's so much math involved . . . not my best subject. But the thing is, what will I do with an English degree? Teach? While I write the next Great American Novel, of course," she joked.

"I think you can do anything you set your mind to," he told her. "You still have plenty of time to figure it out."

"I guess." She took note of his somber expression but decided to push her luck anyway. "What about you? Did you go to college? The way you play the piano, you must have studied somewhere. Do you have plans to be a musician after . . . I mean, you aren't going to be an escort forever . . . right?" Her words trailed off as she watched his face stiffen.

"Yes, I went to college. Yes, I have a degree in music. No, I have no plans to pursue it now, or after I'm done being this decade's answer to American Gigolo." His words were rushed, his tone, clipped. The half-smile he gave her was terse. "Careful, sweetheart, you're going to use up all your questions at once. You're up to nine now."

Edward avoided her stunned expression by draining his glass and reaching for the bottle on the nearby end table. It was empty. "Why don't you think of more ways to grill me while I go get us some wine?" he suggested, rising abruptly from the couch and disappearing to the kitchen.

Bella stared after him, mildly horrified. She knew she might hit a nerve with that line of questioning, but she still hadn't been prepared for such an icy response.

She gulped the rest of her drink and wondered how to make this right.

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><p><strong>Thanks, everyone, for all the wonderful response to this story. Real Life has been throwing me a curve ball lately, so you've helped make Fic World a very welcome respite for me. Bless you all.<strong>


	9. Chapter 9

**I think we've established that Stephenie Meyer brought us the Twilight characters. I'm just making them all human and putting them in a very strange situation.**

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><p>In the kitchen, Edward yanked the nearest bottle of red out of the hotel's wine rack, not caring what brand or varietal it was. He tore at the foil top and crushed the wine opener into the bottle's cork, giving it several vicious twists.<p>

_Fuck. _Why did Bella have to go there? Why couldn't she be self-centered enough to just blather about herself after sex, like most women? Why did she feel so compelled to get to know him?

The cork made a satisfyingly loud pop when he wrenched it from its tight bottleneck. He took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. It wasn't her fault. She was just trying to make conversation, and he was the one who started that ball rolling by asking about her college major. He was also the idiot who brought up Twenty Questions to begin with, although it had been a joke. One Bella didn't get, apparently.

She didn't get a lot of things about this whole situation, it seemed. Like the fact that there was no point in her getting to know him. There was nothing to know, and no reason to know it. In the grand scheme of things, it didn't matter if they liked each other or not, because there was nowhere for this to go.

And that, right there, was the problem. They did like each other. He understood why she wanted to know him better - for the same reason he wanted to know her. To get closer. To share. To experience. To _feel_.

He couldn't afford to feel anything for her. To like her. But it was too late. He knew he'd never be able to do anything less.

He took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling; he didn't know why. What was he doing - appealing to a higher power? There was no God who would smile benevolently down on him and tell him that any part of this situation was okay. Or would He, knowing where the money was going? Maybe . . .

No, there was no point in prayer, or optimism. And no point in encouraging Bella to forge some kind of connection with him that he could never uphold.

But he had to make tonight okay for her. Better than okay. He had to do this for her, for one night. Make it special. Make it mean something, at least for now.

_Now. _It was all they had. He would concentrate on that.

His head was heavy with guilt as he walked slowly back to the living room, wine bottle and glass in hand, and approached the couch. Bella sat clutching her empty glass, staring up at him with wide, apologetic eyes.

"Here," he offered softly, refilling her goblet as she held it out to him.

"Edward, I'm so sorry," she blurted before he even had a chance to sit down. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I definitely didn't mean to interrogate you - "

"Bella, stop," he interrupted her before she could debase herself further. "I'm the jerk here. I had no right to overreact and treat you like that. I'm sorry." He set the bottle on the coffee table and joined her back on the couch.

"Look," she began, her eyes earnest. "You don't have to say anything. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. It's none of my business why you do this for a living, or what happened that made you choose this. I'm not stupid - I know this can't be what you planned for yourself or your life. But I absolutely believe that you can do anything you set your mind to, just like you told me I can. Don't give up on that. Or yourself."

He couldn't hold her gaze when she threw his words back at him, and his eyes shifted, out the window and to the city lights twinkling in the distance. He felt her hand on his, but he still looked away. She made it worse when she quoted him again.

"Why don't you listen to your own advice? Why don't you see how special _you_ are right now? Where you are . . . who you are?" He felt her fingers stroke the back of his hand, then try to work their way between his. He heard her sigh before she spoke again.

"Maybe this is the last place you want to be right now. But I'm selfish enough to admit that I'm glad you're here. I'm glad for every shitty decision you or I ever made that led us here right now. Because I'm glad I met you. No matter what happens the rest of this night, I won't regret that."

She had his full attention then. His eyes darted back to her face; his fingers slipped through hers and held on. It was as if his world suddenly shifted on its axis - abruptly righted itself just when he thought it was hopelessly off track.

"I won't regret it, either," he whispered. He could never regret her, of that he was sure. And maybe that was enough. It would have to be.

He watched the candlelight dance in her eyes, beckoning him. He took the wine glass from her and set it with his on the coffee table, then leaned in to kiss her. He kept his eyes open as long as he could, watching her watching him. He wanted to stop thinking now. Give in to feeling . . . just for tonight. Tomorrow would take care of itself.

His kiss was different this time - unguarded, eager. Hungry, even. She had pulled him back from the dark place where she'd inadvertently sent him. She wished he could have been more open with her, but why should he? Surely he didn't cry on the shoulder of every woman who hired him. That was probably the last thing he ever wanted to do.

She suddenly thought back to the harsh words she'd said to him earlier and she cringed, pulling away from him slightly.

"What is it?" he asked, his concern evident.

"I'm sorry for what I accused you of at dinner. That you like being used." She shook her head in regret. "I think you hate it. I wish I knew why you thought you had no other choice."

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "Bella, please." He didn't want to talk about this anymore. He couldn't.

"I'm sorry. I just got done telling you I wouldn't push you and then I did it again." She reached up to stroke his face; pull him back to her. "It's just that . . . I don't want to be someone who uses you."

He searched her eyes for her meaning. "What are you saying? Are you backing out after all?"

"No. I don't want to," she replied. "But I hope I'm not one of the people who makes you feel used. I think you're worth more than that, even if you don't. I'm just saying . . ." She faltered, her eyes searching the air for the right words. "This feels different to me, somehow." She took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, her gaze settling upon his. "I _like_ you. You're not just some guy I paid to fuck me anymore."

His smile was wry. How could she be so blunt, yet so blind, at the same time?

_That's exactly what I am, _he wanted to say. No matter how Bella tried to twist it or sugar-coat it or deny it, it was the truth.

"I'm glad you feel that way," was what he did say. "Because you're not just another client that I'm going to forget about in the morning." He was terrified that this might also be the truth.

Her grin was far too pleased; her cheeks too pink with satisfaction. He wanted to remind her how idiotic it was to create any pipe dreams about what was going on between them. But this was her night, her fantasy. Her first time. And if she wanted to pretend that there could be something more between them after this was over, then he would go along with it.

"So, if you're not backing out, then I need to ask you something."

Her eyebrows raised, waiting for him to continue.

"I need to know if you want to spend the night here. With me," he added, as if that part was somehow in question.

"Well . . . yeah," she replied slowly, suddenly wondering if that was okay. She had assumed an overnight stay in this palatial suite was part of the deal, but maybe she had failed to read the fine print in their agreement. Maybe one of them was contractually obligated to turn into a pumpkin at midnight.

He smiled immediately, putting her fears to rest. "I was hoping you would. But that means we need to give Emmett a call."

Anxiety seized her as she stared up at him. Flashes of kinky three-ways flitted across her mind.

She tried to keep her voice steady as she asked, "Who's Emmett?"

"The Enforcer. The guy downstairs who will break my kneecaps if he doesn't see you smiling when you eventually exit the building."

"Oh." She hoped her relief wasn't too obvious. She had forgotten all about him, poor guy. What a boring job, sitting in a hotel bar, babysitting all of Renaissance Escort's first-time customers.

"It's weird, the way your agency operates," she commented. "It's like the mob or something."

"'Just when I think I'm out, they pull me back in,'" Edward aped the famous Michael Corleone line in a bad accent. He laughed outwardly, but inwardly, he worried that it could come true.

_No, _he reminded himself. This line of work was temporary, despite what he had just told Bella moments ago. A few more years ought to do it. Then he could . . .

Could do what, exactly? That's what scared the hell out of him. By then, the original plans he'd had for his career would probably be impossible to follow. That's why it had stung so badly when she brought it up. She had no way of knowing just what a sore subject it was. But he was pretty sure he'd done a bang-up job of letting her know that it was off-limits.

"Checking in with Emmett is just a precaution," Edward reminded her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead before rising from the couch. "So you know you're safe with me."

"I never doubted it," she replied.

He smiled and gave his head a shake, then disappeared, presumably in search of his phone. She grabbed her wine glass off the coffee table and took a few more gulps. She liked the warm, fuzzy feeling it gave her, and she didn't want it to wear off. She had the suspicion she would need it when it came time for the Deflowering. Surely it wouldn't be too bad, would it? She was only a technical virgin now, anyway. Edward had already thoroughly invaded her with other parts of his body. A delicious shiver ran through her at the memory. The actual intercourse would be a mere formality now, right? The only difference would be that Edward would be using his penis this time.

That big, thick, long, penis.

"Okay, he's on his way up to check on you," the owner of the penis interrupted her thoughts. She looked up to see Edward set his phone on the coffee table and reach for his own glass of wine.

"The Enforcer is coming up here?" she exclaimed, jumping up from the couch. She set her glass back down before she spilled wine everywhere. She really didn't want the big lug from downstairs to see her like this, disheveled and naked under a hotel bathrobe. It was one thing for him to know what was going on up here, but quite another for him to see it in person.

Edward was surprised at her reaction. He wondered why she was so nervous. "He needs to see for himself that you're fine, and hear you tell him that it's your decision to stay here. It's proof that I'm not holding you here against your will," he explained. She really hadn't read through the agreement at all, had she? Did she have no regard at all for her personal safety? She was far too trusting.

He was still frowning at her carelessness when she excused herself to use the bathroom. She hadn't come out yet when Emmett's knock sounded across the room, so he went to answer it.

"Hey," he said casually as he opened the door.

"Hey, brother." Emmett greeted his favorite co-worker with the usual nickname, accompanied by a lazy grin. "How goes it?" He glanced at Edward's attire and added, "As if I need to ask."

"Business as usual," he answered with a smile.

"Nice. Didn't take you long."

"I'm only halfway there, actually."

"Ah, well, the night is young."

Emmett glanced over Edward's shoulder at the tiny female figure approaching, and his amiable expression immediately morphed into an imposing mask of severity.

"Miss Swan. How are you this evening?" he addressed her formally.

Bella looked up at him uncertainly. "I'm great, uh . . . Emmett." She glanced at Edward for approval at using The Enforcer's first name.

Edward tried to stifle his grin of amusement, not just at her words, but her appearance. She had brushed her hair and freshened her lipstick, from what he could see. Her bathrobe was overlapped high around her neck and tied tightly at the waist, giving her the appearance of a terry-cloth mummy.

"It's my understanding that you wish to spend the evening here in the hotel, with Mister Cullen. Is that correct?"

Bella blushed hotly at Emmett's question, then managed a nod.

"You're absolutely sure? If not, I'd be happy to escort you to the parking lot right now." He regarded her so seriously that she wondered for a split second if there was something horrible he knew about Edward that she didn't.

"Ye-ah, I'm sure," she answered slowly.

He gave her a short nod. "Very well. You have my number in case you change your mind."

_I do? _she thought. Damn, why hadn't she brought a copy of the agreement with her? Evidently she'd missed a whole mess of stuff in the fine print.

"You aren't stuck here waiting downstairs all night, are you?" she blurted, mortified at the thought.

Emmett gave her a tiny smile. "No, Miss Swan. I'll be leaving. But I can be back here in a flash if you need me."

"Oh. Okay," she said, relieved. "I mean, I'm sure I won't. I trust Edward completely." She wanted to make sure that he wasn't going to get in trouble with his employer.

Emmett raised one eyebrow slightly, and Bella was sure she saw a twinkle of amusement in his blue eyes. She wondered again, should she be worried about Edward? He'd given her no reason to be afraid of him so far.

"He's the epitome of trustworthiness," Emmett assured her. "We make sure all of our escorts are. I'm glad he meets your expectations, Miss Swan." Yes, there was definitely a twinkle.

"Is that all?" Edward asked him, an edge of annoyance in his tone.

Emmett deferred to Bella, giving her a questioning look. She nodded affirmatively.

He nodded his own head, almost a bow, and backed out the door.

"I'll be right back. I'd like a word with him," Edward told Bella, then followed Emmett out into the hall.

"Ni-i-ice!" The Enforcer drawled, giving the Escort a light punch on the arm. "She's a cutie. Bet you wish they were all like her."

"That would make my job much easier," Edward conceded.

"Damn. Girls like that almost make me miss my own escort days," Emmett said wistfully.

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that. Rosalie would have your hide."

Emmett chuckled. "She does have a possessive streak, doesn't he?" he said fondly.

"You think? You didn't even last a year before she promoted you to knee-capper. You realize she made up that position for you, right? She couldn't stand the idea of you sleeping with anyone but her."

Emmett shrugged good-naturedly. "Hey, somebody's got to keep all you lotharios in line. God knows what kind of kinky fuckery you'd be up to if you didn't have to answer to me."

Edward's eyes rolled. "Listen, I'm turning my phone off until the morning. So if anything crazy comes up, run interference for me, will you? I mean, I don't expect anything, but you never know. I've got Katrina and Stephanie booked back-to-back tomorrow, so if one of them calls to change their plans, I might have to get creative."

"Will do. I'll check your emails and forward anything that's urgent. So this one must be special, huh?" Emmett nodded his head toward the hotel door.

Edward nodded quietly. He couldn't quite bring himself to say it out loud.

Emmett's eyes narrowed. "Be careful, Eddie-boy. Don't start over-thinking things."

Edward cringed at the nickname, and the advice. Thinking wasn't the issue. His brain knew exactly what was going on.

It was the rest of him that was going to be a problem.

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><p><strong>Seems the big, scary Enforcer isn't quite what Bella was led to believe, eh? ;D Emmett always struck me as a big ol' pussycat, unless being ferocious is truly called for. <strong>

**Thanks, everyone, for all the great feedback! I am so touched, maybe even a little overwhelmed. I'm actually having a hard time keeping up with answering reviews, but that's a challenge I'll gladly accept! You all make my day, truly. I just hope my words can make yours, too, in some small way. :)**


	10. Chapter 10

**As always, thanks to Stephenie Meyer for giving us such wonderful characters to play with.**

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><p>Bella couldn't stop staring at the king-sized bed.<p>

She wasn't sure how long she'd been frozen to the spot, studying the modern leaf design woven into its sumptuous silk comforter and matching pillow shams. The bed was big, beautiful and imposing, not unlike a couple of other things she'd encountered already this evening.

She couldn't figure out why the sight of it made her anxious. She hadn't changed her mind about losing her virginity in this very bed, to the troubled man standing out in the hall with the Enforcer. He made her feel many contrary things, but fear wasn't one of them. She didn't understand how he could make her so nervous, yet calm and reassured at the same time. That didn't make sense. She only knew that no matter what Emmett implied, she trusted Edward, more than she had any other guy before him.

That didn't make any sense, either. Mike Newton had been the picture of trust-worthiness, following her around like a harmless, hopeful puppy the minute she'd moved to Forks at the age of sixteen. And Jake had been her best friend all summer, right up until their pact had taken such an ugly turn. She was still angry with him for that. She was more angry with herself for missing his friendship after the whole thing blew up in her face. She should have known that trying to bring sex into the equation would ruin everything, one way or another.

But this, with Edward, was the opposite. This was about nothing but sex, no matter what else she was beginning to feel for him. He'd made that crystal clear the minute she attempted to get to know him better. She would be foolish to believe that he felt anything for her in return, no matter what he said or how he looked at her just now, before he called the Enforcer. She had paid him well to treat her like she was special, she kept reminding herself. All he had been trying to do when he abruptly ended their game of Twenty Questions was remind her what their reality was. No misunderstandings would come into play as long as they both knew what they were here for.

And he was right - it was better this way, she reasoned. She'd been friends with both Mike and Jake first, and look how that had turned out. The less she knew or cared about Edward Cullen, the better.

She frowned at the cool silk adorning the dark-framed bed. It needed warmth.

She slipped back into the living room to retrieve some of the candles Edward had set strategically around the suite. After a few trips, she had rearranged them artfully throughout the bedroom. She smiled at the soft, exotic glow they created as they tossed flickering shadows on the walls and draperies. This was better. This was a suitable backdrop for the attempt to make losing her virginity an epic event, or at least a memorable one. It certainly beat the hell out of the back seat of Jake's ancient rebuilt VW Rabbit.

Outside the suite, Edward ran his fingers nervously through his hair and took a deep breath while Emmett retreated down the hall. This was it. He was about to sleep with his first virgin. The tension that wracked his body made him feel like he was the one who was about to lose something he'd never be able to get back.

He called her name softly as he opened the door, but was met with silence. He searched the kitchen, dining and living areas, but they were empty. Maybe she was in the bathroom again. She was probably ten times more nervous than he was.

The bathroom had two entrances: one near the suite's foyer, and one to an oversized sunken bathtub that connected to the bedroom. He knocked on the former before trying the door; it opened easily to darkness. That meant Bella was waiting for him in the bedroom.

He let out a ragged breath, then decided to use the facilities himself before going to meet her. He shook his head at his own reflection in the bathroom mirror as he washed his hands, then splashed some cold water on his face. What the hell was his problem? He'd slept with countless women before her. Young, not-so-young, not young at all. There was no type of female, and no type of sexual proclivity, that he hadn't encountered before.

Except for the Bella type of female. A virgin.

His own first time had been with a slightly older, more experienced girl. His second time had been, too; and nearly every time after that. He had been no one's first. No one's eternal, irrevocable memory of their first sexual encounter. He didn't count the boys Bella had fooled around with before him, or even the manual and oral sex he'd performed on her already. He knew this would be different. At least, it would be for her. And for him too, if he was being honest.

"Stop being such a pussy," he hissed under his breath to his glowering reflection. "You act like you're the virgin here. Man up and go take care of business."

He'd given himself similar pep-talks in the past when required, but not quite like this one. They were usually to talk himself into things he didn't necessarily feel like doing. This time he was pumping himself up for something he wanted far too much.

He called her name again as he slowly opened the door to the bedroom.

"Bella?"

Her skin raised in goose bumps at the sound. She was sitting at the foot of the bed, waiting. She'd been staring at one of the candles on the dresser until it had burned multiple golden spots into her retinas. When she looked up at Edward, his face was illuminated by a halo of phantom flames. She smiled at the illusion. Her sun god was still glorious long after night had fallen.

She looked so small to him, sitting there on the oversized bed. Vulnerable. Her eyes were two black spots of ink, dotted with the reflection of the candles she'd brought into the room. He couldn't read her expression, even when he came closer. Her gaze was remarkably placid, if expectant. How could she be so sure? Why was he the one who felt like a wreck?

He sat down next to her and turned to study her. Her breathing quickened, the first sign that she might not be as calm as she appeared on the surface. Their eyes began a conversation, asking and granting permission in turn. When he parted his lips to speak, her mouth mimicked his, opening, waiting.

"The candles look nice," he said, his voice rough. He cleared it with a quiet cough.

"Yeah. Thanks for bringing them."

He didn't want to tell her that he always brought candles. He didn't want to tell her a lot of things, but he found himself talking anyway.

"Are you sure you want to do this now?" He reached out and touched his fingertips to the dark silk growing from her temple. "We could watch a movie first. Or finish our game. I promise to answer all your questions without flying off the handle."

"I might take you up on that. Later," she answered. Her hand crept up to touch the soft terry opening of his bathrobe, then slid inside. She located his heart within seconds, pressing her hot fingers against its rapid beat. His own breathing matched the pace of hers now. His hand drifted down from her hair to the side of her face, caressing her warm skin. He couldn't stop staring into her eyes, so trusting, so willing. So ready.

She looked up at him curiously. He seemed to be as nervous as she was, maybe more so - yet another thing about this evening that didn't make any sense.

"Your heart is beating so fast," she said, her eyes questioning him. "You aren't a virgin too, are you?" she added with a laugh.

His face cracked with that slightly crooked grin of his. "No, not like you think. But the truth is, I've never done this before, either."

Her forehead scrunched in confusion. "What . . . ?" she began, shaking her head.

"I've never taken anyone's virginity," he explained. He felt somewhat relieved now that he had confessed this one truth to her, but she looked more confused than ever.

"Never? Not even when you were younger?" She had a hard time imagining such a thing - that he had only been with experienced girls.

"Never," he reiterated. His hand still stroked the side of her face, his fingers gently massaging her scalp through thick strands of hair. She couldn't seem to move her palm from his chest, too enamored with the feel of his heart thumping persistently under its surface.

"So I guess this is a first for both of us," she said, a pleased grin slowly lifting the corners of her mouth.

"I guess it is," he agreed softly.

Their faces were close now, neither of them knowing how they got there. They inhaled each other's air in shallow breaths. His thumb traced her plump bottom lip and his eyes followed. He knew that once he kissed her, he would not stop. Nothing would stop him until he had found ecstasy inside this bewildering, remarkable girl.

But what would she find once she let him in?

"I don't want to hurt you," he told her. His whisper was barely audible.

She was floored by the emotion on his face, his blue-green eyes as watery and fathomless as the Sound. He had to feel something for her - something more than just perfunctory concern. If he didn't, then he deserved an Academy Award.

She felt herself melting under his gaze, his touch, just as she had earlier when he'd studied her under the glare of the setting sun. She knew her common sense was dissolving with the rest of her senses. She didn't care if it was foolish to want him this much, this stranger who knew how to reach her most intimate places with so little effort. If she was a fool, then she might as well rush in, angels be damned. For all appearances, the man looking at her so intently right now might be Gabriel himself.

"You won't hurt me," she told him, surprised at the volition in her voice. She gave him a small smile and added, "At least not for long."

His lopsided grin made a brief appearance. "Are you going to hold me to that?" he questioned, knowing it was a promise he couldn't keep.

"I'd rather just hold you," she said.

He let out a short laugh even though her expression was earnest. His own was dead sober by the time his lips reached hers. Her mouth opened immediately, inviting him to taste and explore, then returning the favor. Merging lips were followed by limbs, their bodies craving more contact. Robes fell open as skin sought skin, heat kindled fire, want fostered need. Their torsos were soon pressed together in desperation, hands grasping at one another's flesh under thick swaths of terry cloth while they fell back on the cool silk comforter together.

He softly moaned something that sounded like her name as he rolled on top of her, relishing the feel of her beneath him, her legs and arms tangled with his. He kissed her hungrily, clutching her hair between greedy fingers and pressing her into the bed.

She loved his weight upon her, hot and hard and soft and deliciously crushing. Her hands groped his shoulders, then his back, while her legs parted to draw him in. Their bodies had already begun a sensuous dance together, finding that primordial motion designed to join them in a sexual rhythm as old as time itself.

Edward raised himself up on his hands long enough to shrug one arm, then the other, out of his robe and push it aside. She held her own arms out so that he could peel off the oversized terry sleeves and free her as well. They made noises of triumph at being able to clutch each other close without impediment, and they sealed their victory with a deep kiss.

He didn't know why he was surprised at her eagerness as she wrapped her limbs around him, matching his every kiss and caress with one of her own. He was even more shocked when she managed to maneuver him onto his back and straddle him, covering his chest with kisses and grinding her hips against his. She certainly didn't seem like a girl who'd been reticent about sex in the past. He liked thinking that he was the first, the only man who could bring her to act on her desires; that she was so attracted to him, any hesitation was obliterated in the heat of the moment.

He was high on that power as she writhed over him, moaning softly in between kisses. She had discovered her own feminine rhythm, rocking atop his body and teasing his rigid cock with the slick flesh between her legs. All it would take now was just the right movement, the slightest repositioning, for her to take him inside. Bella seemed to sense his thoughts, for she slowed and arched her back, pushing back against the head of his straining erection. The tip easily found her creamy opening, lodging itself there.

Their breath caught; their eyes locked.

_Are you sure?_ his asked.

_I'm sure, _hers replied.

Edward's hands positioned themselves on her hips, fingers splayed over her round cheeks. He held her steady and gently lifted his pelvis, pushing his swollen head into her wetness until it was enveloped in her hot flesh.

She gasped at the pressure of his thick cock demanding entrance. He persisted until the tip was fully inside her, and then, after a moment, he pulled back. As soon as she let out a shaky breath and took another, he did it again, pushing a little further this time, clutching her ass tightly in his fingers so that she couldn't pull away. She bit her lip and gripped his shoulders at the discomfort, but she refused to make a sound. This was what she wanted - what she'd come here for. She wasn't backing out now.

She concentrated on the look in his eyes instead - a strange mixture of lust and . . . wonder? Awe? She couldn't quite name it. But it was intense and unrelenting, just like the motion of his hips, slowly but insistently shoving his dick more deeply inside her with the rhythmic precision of a metronome.

He felt nearly mad with desire as he looked up into the startled face she made with every one of his gentle thrusts. He was hurting her, he knew, but she was stoic. He could see her grim determination to literally ride this out to its conclusion. But there was something else in her eyes that did the opposite of dampening his enthusiasm. Her dark gaze held the promise of something much more than mere endurance of his member drilling its way inside her. She had wanted to get rid of her virginity for a specific reason, and he nearly laughed at how simple and obvious that reason should have been to him.

Bella Swan loved sex.

Maybe not now, at this particular moment, while her body struggled to make the necessary adjustments in order for her to enjoy it. But she had watched videos of it, and fantasized about it, and agonized over not having it because she was dying to experience it for herself.

Bella was a girl riddled with deep passions seeking the proper outlet. She had fought them over and over tonight, attacking him with fervor before she remembered to be nervous or ashamed of her desires. He knew that she would be seized by those desires again, after the nuisance of inexperience came to an end. As he carefully invaded her body by inches, he could clearly foresee the day when she would be able to easily let him in and ride him with wild abandon, not stopping until they were both fulfilled.

He closed his eyes for a moment to enjoy the vision. He groaned and thrust upward one last time, forgetting to be careful and driving himself inside her to the hilt. Their skin made a soft smacking noise at the point of impact.

She cried out sharply, and his eyes flew open. "Are you okay?" he asked anxiously, releasing her backside to cradle her head and stroke her hair.

She nodded, afraid that opening her mouth would let a whimper escape. She felt impaled. Her entire abdomen radiated with a dull, throbbing ache. She couldn't quite call it pain, though. It simply felt . . . alien. Or at the very least, highly uncomfortable. His cock felt as big as the monoliths she'd compared it to earlier, her body stretched and conformed around it like a glob of putty stuck over a bed post.

She concentrated on slowing her breathing and relaxing, just like he had instructed her to do earlier. She just needed to get used to the sensation - the overfull feeling and pressure of something embedded so deeply inside her. But as she looked down into Edward's beautiful face, staring up at her with an emotion she couldn't identify, she'd never been more sure that she had chosen the right man to let in.

"Do you have any idea how good you feel?" His whispered question was rhetorical. He knew that he was enjoying this far more than she was. She was so tight that he almost felt uncomfortable himself, his cock strangled in the grip of her rigid walls. Yet she was so warm and wet, so utterly ready for this . . . even if she hadn't quite figured it out yet.

He tried to remember the last time he'd experienced being inside a woman without a condom separating them. He wasn't sure he ever had. He usually enforced an ironclad policy of safe sex, armed with a battalion of prophylactics and medical documents. Bella had infected him with her recklessness once more, but at least he was sure that was the only thing he'd catch from her.

Still, he could let this go no further without procuring one of the latex shields he'd already deposited in the nightstand at the head of the bed. Her safety was paramount to him, and he'd already taken too big a risk by letting nature run its course.

"Let's pull the bed covers down and do this right, shall we?" he suggested, running his hands lightly down her back. He shifted his hips downward, slowly pulling out of her. She sighed in relief as he exited her body.

He rolled her gently off of him and sat up, kissing her several times before he stood and made his way around the bed. She watched him, somewhat dazed, as he turned the silk comforter and expensive sheets down, then removed the pillows from their shams. He came back to the foot of the bed and took her hands in his, pulling her to her feet.

"You take good care of me," she said, her eyes strangely grateful as she gazed up at him.

"Why wouldn't I?" he responded. Why wouldn't any man? She was worth caring for. He wondered at the guys she'd tried to be with before him - why they couldn't see how special she was. He'd spent time with more females than he could count, but he could list on one hand the number who had made a lasting impression on him.

She had no answer. He'd rendered her speechless once more with his matter-of-fact assertion of her worth.

His hands still enveloping hers, he led her around to the head of the bed, then kissed her. He let go of her hands only to wrap his arms around her, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss. He was sweet and romantic, yet insistent and commanding, a combination she had no hope of resisting.

They were soon a tangle of limbs again under the sheets, their bodies reunited in one mutual desire. She succumbed easily to gentle hands roaming, wet lips teasing, hot skin pressing. He was everywhere at once, it seemed, and she was delirious from the possession. She found herself flattened beneath him once more, spread open and waiting. Wanting. She was ready to let him penetrate her again; ready for him to make her feel his desire, deep inside.

He groaned softly at the feel of her pushing against him, lifting her hips to meet his. It would be better this time, he knew. He leaned toward the edge of the bed, opening the nightstand drawer and grabbing a foil wrapper from within. She observed while he deftly ripped the packet open and withdrew the ring of latex. He positioned it at the tip of his erection, then rolled it down with a few sure, swift movements. He had sheathed himself one-handedly in less than thirty seconds. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to turn off the part of her brain that wondered how many times he'd done this, and with how many other women, in order to gain such impressive dexterity in handling condoms.

He mistook her slight grimace for trepidation. "Relax, Bella. It'll be better now that you know what to expect." He planted several soft kisses on her pink cheeks as he sidled between her thighs. "I swear I'm going to make this good for you," he said, determined to follow through on that promise.

She nodded her consent and her confidence. "I know you will."

He reached between her legs and stroked the sensitive flesh there, massaging her until she moaned at the sensation. Her sounds encouraged him, and he positioned himself to enter her once more. He continued to stimulate her with his fingers, spreading her moisture as he worked. Then he grasped his cock and guided it up and down her pussy, wetting it with every stroke.

Her eyes closed, this time in pleasure, and another moan escaped her. He couldn't wait any longer. He slipped the head inside her pink and ready opening, then continued pushing even after he met resistance. She cried out softly, so he withdrew slightly before pushing once more. He lifted himself slightly so he could reach between their bodies and massage her clitoris, enhancing her pleasure to counter the discomfort of his thrusts. He worked this way until he was all the way in, rocking gently inside her until she joined his rhythm.

"That's better, isn't it?" he asked hopefully, fairly sure of her response.

She nodded before gasping a quick "Yes," and gripping his neck and shoulders more tightly. She still felt impaled, filled to the point of bursting, but the pain of stretching to accommodate him had begun to ebb. It was nearly forgotten every time he slid his hand between them and stroked her, giving her waves of tingling ecstasy that all but erased the ache.

She almost didn't notice him picking up his pace, slowly thrusting and pulling back, then thrusting again. Her own body was rising to meet each of his movements, matching them, inviting them. It seemed to know what it was doing. She tried to shut off her brain entirely and allow her body to ride the waves of sensation, the good gradually outweighing the bad, as they mounted and swirled within her.

"Christ, you feel so fucking good," Edward rasped, interrupting her self-absorbed concentration. She looked up into dark, fevered eyes under lids heavy with lust; cherry red lips, parted and panting; smooth skin and rough stubble beaded with perspiration. She was shocked at his beauty once more, now painted in a picture of sensuality that was stunning to behold. She reached up to touch him, to finger the droplets of sweat and trace those delectable lips.

He slowed his pace, trying to read her; waiting for her response. When she realized what he required, she said simply, "Don't stop."

Her whispered words sounded like a prayer to him. He couldn't have stopped anyway, but he needed to know that she wanted the same thing. Her face was etched with an intensity that he hoped was more pleasure than pain as he pumped in and out of her with increasing speed. She was perfection. He felt like he was molding her flesh to fit him and only him; leaving the indelible impression of his cock within her, branding her as his.

He knew these mad thoughts of ownership were not only sexist but utterly futile. Thankfully his hormones had dispatched his intellect with swift and total authority for the time being. Now was about only flesh and bone merging, taking and giving. He could not hope to match what Bella was giving him right now, but he had to try.

He reached down and rapidly fondled her clit once more, trying to pleasure her as well as himself. She groaned her approval and her hands gripped his hair more tightly, urging him on. Maybe he could make her come. Maybe it wouldn't be impossible.

But he knew it would soon be impossible for him to hold back. She was too snug a fit; the friction between them was too intense. He wanted to come. He wanted to come right now. It was all he could do to stop it. He thought of baseball statistics, mortgage payments, world famine. Anything but the beautiful girl lying beneath him, tilting her hips to take every inch of his cock, again and again and again.

"Fuck," he growled in frustration. He removed his hand from her, placing it on the mattress to give himself leverage. He ground into her helplessly, hoping that the rhythmic slap of his groin against hers would be enough to stimulate her. She gasped and whimpered with every thrust, which only spurred him on. He couldn't stop now. He wouldn't stop fucking her until he came.

Bella was overwhelmed. She didn't know what she felt anymore. The line between pleasure and pain had been obliterated by Edward's ceaseless movements; the line between her body and his was now blurred beyond recognition. Her insides churned and burned with an uneasy fire, stoked by the ramming cock that repeatedly shook her. She could feel the possibility of an orgasm igniting; the beginning of a pyre that might grow if she could dampen that last twinge of pain and fan the flames of growing pleasure.

She let go of his damp hair and slid her hands south, over his perfect, round ass. She gripped his cheeks firmly in her hands, guiding him into her, though he needed no help in that regard. He groaned loudly at the feel of her fingers clutching him, then pounded into her with quick, desperate strokes.

"Oh, baby, I can't . . ." he began, his voice breaking. "I can't hold back much longer."

"Then don't," she ordered.

"But I want you to . . ."

"Don't worry about me. I want you to come. I want to feel you come inside me."

That was the truth. She had never expected to orgasm during her first time. She didn't need to. She knew that she would one day, and that reassurance was more than enough for her.

"Bella," he murmured, his tone laced with regret.

She was the one who looked at him in wonder now. He could never know how deeply it touched her that he was trying so hard to be perfect for her, instead of giving in to his own needs. She wanted him to let himself feel that release. To find ecstasy inside her.

"Edward," she whispered. "Let go."

And with a shuddering gasp, he obeyed.

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><p><strong>Many thanks to all of you who have reviewed, favorited and alerted this story - I continue to be humbled and excited at the great feedback. You keep me going!<strong>

**Special thanks to Coldplaywhore and everyone at The Lemonade Stand for nominating "The Agreement" as Fic of the Week! And to everyone who voted for it, I am very grateful for your support. (Also thanks to the lovely ladies at TLS for naming "The Guitar" as O/S of the week last week! I am very honored it was chosen. :)**

**A special shout-out to Ange de l'aube for creating a banner and blinky for this story! I was so touched to find out she did this for me, completely unsolicited. :) Find them at http : / / angedelaube . wordpress . com / 2012 / 04 / 12 / fan-art-the-agreement-by-gemgirl65 / (Close up the spaces)**

**Thanks also to Twiggalina for her rec on A Different Forest, and to all of you who have pimped and mentioned the story on Twitter or Facebook. You know who you are, and you know I love you all. xoxo If I have missed any of your recs on other sites, please let me know so I can thank you properly!**


	11. Chapter 11

**Stephenie Meyer's post-sex scene involved a broken bed, bruises, self-recrimination and feathers flying everywhere. I didn't even attempt that level of kink. Freak. ;)**

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><p><em>Heaven.<em>

That was the only name Edward could come up with for utter rapture that filled every cell of his body when he came inside her. The build-up to his climax had been almost too much to bear, and its release was even more overwhelming. His body shook with strain as his arms held him aloft and his belly convulsed against hers. He hoped the condom protecting them both was a strong one, because he was sure the force of his orgasm would have propelled his cum straight to Bella's ovaries without that barrier to stop it.

That was physically impossible, of course. But his thoughts were chaotic as the blood coursed through his body after being congested in his groin for so long. He opened his eyes after the spasms had calmed, and he was immediately engulfed in the soft, dark gaze aimed up at him. _Heaven_, his mind reiterated. She was all warmth and comfort and haven in the golden haze of candlelight that surrounded them.

He collapsed into her, letting her warmth envelop him completely. She stroked his hair as her eyes roamed his face. What did she see there, he wondered? How did he appear to her after greedily possessing her body until his own pleasure was too much for him to deny? Did even a fraction of his gratitude show? Had she obtained even a smidgen of the bliss that pervaded him as he gazed down into her lovely face?

_Beautiful._

That was the word that still flitted through her mind as she looked up at Edward in those moments after he came. She was mesmerized by the metamorphosis of his handsome features, contorted in relentless, driven passion before transforming to relieved, satisfied bliss. He looked . . . happy. She realized that this was the first time she'd seen true happiness, or at least contentment, on his face.

Bella continued to run her fingers through the damp hair curling on the back of his neck, and stroked his jaw with her thumbs. It unclenched completely under her gentle massage, its jutting tension released as his mouth fell slack and his cool breath grew more shallow on her face. His body felt hot and heavy as he relaxed, and she loved the sensation of him sinking into her, even though she had a little trouble getting her breath. She could feel the subtle aftershocks of Edward's orgasm inside her, his dick twitching sporadically as it calmed down with the rest of him. She loved that, too.

So this was what it felt like to be used for a man's pleasure and still derive immense satisfaction from it herself. Maybe she'd been able to do that because Edward had wanted so badly for her to enjoy it as much as he had. That alone made her failure to do so inconsequential to her. She hoped it was to him as well.

She smiled reassuringly up at him though her body still throbbed uncomfortably. She was torn between wanting him to pull out and never wanting to let him go. She definitely didn't want his blissful expression to fade, nor the tender look in his eyes to harden. He was an open book right now. She had opened her body to him and gained his open heart in return, if only for a fleeting moment.

Too soon, the moment was over.

Uncertainty clouded his eyes as they searched hers, and she didn't know why. Couldn't he see that she was happy, too?

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

"I'm . . . " she trailed off. She had no words for the myriad sensations and thoughts that tumbled through her.

Edward looked so worried that she quickly found some.

"I'm so much better than okay. I don't even know how to describe it."

His frown lessened slightly. "No regrets?" His question was still hesitant.

She didn't hesitate at all. "None whatsoever."

Relief washed over him. He couldn't bear her disappointment. He hoped to God that she wasn't lying to make him feel better, or trying to convince herself that he was worth the wait and expense. What if he had come nowhere near to meeting her expectations? For that matter, who could? She'd been putting guys off, waiting for some bigger-than-life thrill, he surmised. He knew he'd fallen far short of that. He thought he probably ought to give her a refund since he couldn't even slow down enough to wait for her orgasm. Maybe he should ask Rosalie about introducing a new policy: virgins' first dates on the house.

But that would imply that Renaissance Escorts was a brothel selling sex for money, which was, of course, technically untrue. If any activities of a sexual nature occurred as a result of a Renaissance date, then that was between the two consenting adult parties involved, and had nothing to do with the escort service. Employees were officially off the clock as soon as that line was crossed. Edward shuddered to think of how many times that line had been crossed, to the point where it meant nothing to him anymore.

Until now.

Bella looked up at Edward's eyes shifting worriedly, not meeting hers. She wondered what the hell was going through his head that was ruining what had been such an intimate moment.

"Edward. Look at me," she ordered, gripping his face more firmly, willing his gaze back to hers. "I wouldn't change one thing about tonight. You were amazing. What we just did was amazing."

He wanted so badly to believe her, even though he knew she wasn't being entirely truthful. But this was not the night for him to be in need of her reassurances. His fears were immaterial.

"You deserve nothing less," he told her. He kissed her gently, several times. He took solace in the fact that her mouth still eagerly received his.

His insecurities had made him soft, in more ways than one. "I'll be right back," he whispered, giving her one last kiss before reluctantly withdrawing from her warmth and retreating to the bathroom. He ridded himself of the used condom and cleaned up as quickly as he could. He was afraid to give her too much time to ponder what had just happened between them and find it - or him - lacking.

The only thing she was pondering was why he was so hard on himself. How could her first time mean that much to him?

When he returned, he perched next to her on the bed. "Do you want to take a shower or a bath? The tub has jets," he said, motioning to the tiled alcove at the far end of the room.

"No. I want you to get back in bed and warm me up again. I'm getting cold."

That made him smile a little, she noted. When he scooted in next to her and pulled the covers over them, she pressed her body to his immediately, making his smile grow.

"You smell good," she said, burying her nose in his neck. "I don't want to wash it off."

He laughed a little and pulled her close, one hand beginning to play with her hair. "You like the sex smell," he corrected her. "It smells like sex in here. And maybe scented wax," he added.

"No, it's not the candles," she mumbled into his neck. "It's you."

"It's us."

"Sex smell," she agreed with a nod. "I love it." She inhaled deeply for emphasis.

_I wish you'd loved the sex itself_, he thought. But he wasn't going there again. His deflated ego couldn't take it.

He stroked her hair with one hand and trailed the fingers of the other along her arm. She mimicked him, gliding her hand over his chest, swirling her index finger around his nipples, one by one. He enjoyed the quiet at first. It felt peaceful. But after awhile, his tranquility began to unravel around the edges. He was afraid that Bella was reverting back to her earlier silence.

"You're awfully quiet. No more Twenty Questions?" he teased.

"No. I know everything I need to know about you." She said the words with that matter-of-fact confidence that confounded him still.

"Is that so?" he countered. "You sound pretty sure about that, considering you just met me a few hours ago."

"I know the stuff that matters," she insisted quietly. Then she shot him a playful grin. "But if you want to tell me your favorite color, or food, or music, or sports team, I'm all ears."

He chuckled, relieved to be asked relatively trivial questions. "Let's see. I like the color of a good burgundy when you swirl it around the bottom of a wine goblet - like the wine we had earlier. I love Italian food - any comfort food, I guess. I'll probably be a fat old man some day," he added with a laugh. "And I've got to root for the Mariners every spring, no matter how they disappoint me by summer's end."

"Good answers," she said. "But you forgot one. Favorite music."

"Right," he stalled. He should have known he wouldn't get out of that one - not with her. "My taste is all over the map, really. I love to play classical because it's the most challenging. But what I listen to just depends on my mood." He shrugged the shoulder that wasn't pillowing Bella's head. "I love to go to blues concerts. There's nothing like a really good blues guitar solo to get right down in the bottom of your soul and wallow there for awhile."

She smiled up at him, because he was smiling. Music was obviously both his passion and his escape. She wanted to suggest that they go to a show together sometime, but she didn't want to seem too forward. She was afraid he might laugh at the idea of seeing her again during his free time. Or worse, he might inform her that none of his time was free, and give her a price quote for another date.

"What about you? What are your favorites?" he asked, not just because he always tried to divert attention from himself, but because he wanted to know more about her. He wanted to know everything.

"Hmm. Favorite color depends on my mood. I usually like yellow because it's cheerful, like the sun. The sun never shines in Forks, so maybe that's why I love it."

"Forks - is that where you're from?"

She nodded. "You've heard of it? It's up near the coast - a blink-and-you'll-miss-it little town. My dad is the Chief of Police there. He used to embarrass me by driving me around in the squad car with the lights flashing, so my first order of business when I moved there was getting my own set of wheels."

"High priority," he agreed with a grin. "So what did you get?"

"A rebuilt vintage truck," she said proudly. "It's kind of a rusty old piece of crap, but it's all mine. At least I know no one will ever try to steal it."

"Good point." He was dying to see it. "So you said you moved in with your dad? When was that?"

"When I was sixteen. My parents divorced when I was little, and I lived with my mom in Phoenix for a long time. But when she remarried a minor-league ballplayer, she wanted to move to Florida with him, and I didn't really want go there. I guess the real reason was that I felt a little like a third wheel. Mom and Phil acted like newlyweds all the time, and I always felt like I was interrupting something just by coming home from school every day. So I decided to try living with Charlie and moved up north. I guess I got used to the gloomy weather because I'm still here."

"Lucky for me," he murmured. He wasn't sure he'd said it out loud until he saw her cheeks redden.

"Me too," she said. She felt like she must have the goofiest grin in the world on her face, but she couldn't seem to remove it. He was smirking a little, too, so at least she wasn't alone.

"So Charlie is your dad?" Edward prodded.

Bella nodded. "And he's your typical meat-and-potatoes kind of guy, so I never get to eat anything too adventurous when I'm home. I like to try new things when I'm here and I don't have to cook for him. I love Indian food, and most any Asian cuisine, unless it's got squid or some other scary creature in it." She made a face and shuddered slightly. Edward immediately wanted to take her to some of his favorite restaurants around the city so she could broaden her palette.

"So, you cook? Or do you eat out?"

"I like to cook, but I'm afraid to experiment too much. I'd eat out more often but I can't afford it."

Edward's eyebrows knitted. Of course she couldn't afford it, with a small-town cop for a father who probably struggled to help put her through college. He knew all too well about financial struggles, so he hated the thought of how long she must have scrimped and saved just to spend this evening with him, in this lavish suite. He was seized again with the fear that she was disappointed in the outcome.

Bella regretted her last words as soon as she said them. That troubled mask had consumed Edward's features once more, and she began to panic. She'd said yet another thing to make him shut down. Maybe he felt guilty about taking her money. She was determined to make him understand that he was worth every penny and then some.

"So where were we? Sports teams, right?" she said brightly. "It's against the law here to be anything other than a Mariners and Seahawks fan, isn't it?"

"Pretty sure it's in the city bylaws somewhere," he agreed, trying to muster a smile to match hers.

"Right," she said, adding a laugh that she hoped didn't sound too forced. Then she gave up and admitted, "True confession - I'm not that big of a sports fan, really. Don't tell my step-father, though."

His smile turned appreciative. It hurt him to see her trying so hard. He was the one who needed to try harder.

"I think you forgot something in there," he said in mock reproach.

"What's that?"

"Favorite music." He raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Oh, right. I like all kinds, too. If it makes me feel something, deep down, then I'm a fan." She searched his eyes for a moment, wondering how far she could safely push him. She didn't want to see that wall come up again. "I loved what you played for me earlier. It was so full of passion, it was almost . . . ugly. The notes weren't even in harmony, yet it was perfect that way."

"Dissonance," he informed her softly.

"Yeah. I loved that. It was almost brutal, and the way you attacked the keys . . . It gave me goose bumps. But then the ending was so different - so beautiful. Ethereal. Like the calm after the storm. Made me feel like I was floating."

He smiled in spite of himself. "The reason the end was different is because it wasn't part of the piece."

"What do you mean? It was from another song?"

"No, I made it up." He shrugged again.

She stared at him in surprise. "Wow. That's amazing. I guess you did tell me you like to improvise, though."

"Yeah, I do. It's easy for me because I can play by ear. It used to drive my theory teachers crazy because I couldn't transcribe half of it into written music later - I could never remember everything I'd played. I actually had a hard time learning to read music when I was young because I was so used to playing by ear. It's hard to explain."

Bella had propped herself up on one elbow so she could see his expression better. "I get it," she said. "Your music comes to you by instinct, instead of being something you learned. So, it only makes sense that it would be hard to learn the rules your teachers tried to impose on you later."

"Exactly. But in music, rules are important."

"Fuck the rules," Bella said defiantly.

Edward let out a raucous laugh. "You have to know what the rules are in order to break them effectively, my little rebel."

"Maybe," she said, still unconvinced. "But maybe you'd be better off if you didn't even know there were rules to begin with. Maybe then you'd be free."

He was propped on one elbow now too, facing her. "Freedom is great, in theory. It's a wonderful ideology - the one our country is based on. But everyone is bound by something. Duty, honor, obligation. Freedom always has a price. And sometimes you find things in life that are more important to you than your own freedom."

She wished she knew what bound him, and how to set him free.

"Well, it's a good thing I broke the rules and came to your agency, then exercised my freedom of choice when I picked you. Otherwise tonight never would have happened. I never would have found you."

He couldn't suppress the grin that crept across his face at her willfulness. "You did choose a pretty unorthodox method to lose your virginity. I still don't quite get it. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I guess I should be thankful that you're such an impatient girl."

Bella let out a small laugh. "I guess I am." She sighed and made a face. "Do you really want to know what drove me to it?"

"Only if you want to tell me," he answered. He wasn't quite ready to spill his life story in return, even though he was itching to hear hers.

"It's stupid, really," she began with a roll of her eyes. "I spent a lot of time over the summer with a buddy of mine, Jake - an old family friend. He's a couple of years younger than me so I never really thought of him as dating material, you know? But all of a sudden he had this growth spurt and he doesn't really look like a kid anymore, even if he still acts like one." Edward detected a bit of resentment in her tone.

"Anyway, he kept complaining that he needed a girlfriend because he didn't want to start his senior year of high school as a virgin. I admitted that I hadn't found the right guy, either. We joked around that if we didn't find someone by the end of the summer, we should just do the deed with each other and kill two birds with one stone. It sounded good in theory, since we were friends and at least we'd be sleeping with someone who cared about us.

"Long story short, the summer came and went without any progress for either of us in the romance department. We met up at a huge end-of-summer beach party near my hometown - I think every high school and college kid within a sixty mile radius was there. Everyone ate, drank and was merry. Very merry. Very drunk, basically. Jake eventually cornered me and was making the moves, trying to get me to go back to his car with him; and I thought, why not? Maybe it'll be great. After all, we were good friends, so why not see if there was more?"

She sighed and bitterness twisted her features once more. "So I followed him to the junk heap of a car he'd been tricking out all summer, trying to get it to run over fifty. We were in the back seat, making out, and before I knew it, his hands were everywhere, like an octopus. Groping underneath my clothes; trying to shove my hands down his pants. He was drunk and aggressive and I just - froze. I couldn't do it. I couldn't go any further. So then he whined and begged, trying to talk me into it. When that didn't work, he just got mad."

Her brows furrowed, and Edward felt his own doing the same. He hated the thought of any guy trying to force himself on her. He wanted to knock this Jake's block off, sight unseen, even if he did understand the kid's frustration. He wondered how Bella had missed the fact that her "friend" had wanted much more from her than friendship all along. She seemed to be good at deluding herself when it suited her purposes.

Her eyes were still far away, reliving the moment. "I guess I was prepared for his disappointment. But it was worse than that - it was more like humiliation that I'd rejected him. And that quickly turned to anger. He unloaded on me, telling me that I was a 'fucking cock tease' - those were his exact words - and that I'd led him on all summer with the promise of something at the end of it. I never saw it that way at all. I thought our pact was a joke. Or maybe I thought that if it wasn't, I'd be able to go through with it. I just never dreamed he'd turn on me like that. Maybe it was the booze that made him so volatile; I don't know. I'd never seen him like that before.

"He stormed off and left me in the car. I sat there in shock for a few minutes, then fixed my clothes and hair and went back to the party. By the time I got there, everyone was whispering about me behind my back. Literally pointing and snickering, like grade school kids. Apparently Jake had already complained to his buddies about how I chickened out. I heard words like 'frigid' being thrown around. And comments like, 'I thought college girls were supposed to be more experienced. Bella can't even get laid in a university with thousands of guys in it.' Shit like that. It was ridiculous.

"I tried to tell myself that they were all immature assholes and that what I did with my body was my business and nobody else's."

"Which is absolutely true," Edward interrupted sharply.

"I know. I know it is. But that one question just kept nagging at me: Why? Why couldn't I go through with it? I dated a few nice, normal guys before Jake, the human centipede. But I couldn't seem to do it with them either. I started almost panicking, thinking something was wrong with me. Wishing that I could just have sex already so I'd quit worrying about how and when it was going to happen, and stop feeling like a freak.

"So, I had this crazy idea that maybe I should consult a professional, and I went shopping online." She stopped and her smile finally returned. "As soon as I saw your face, I knew you were the one. I don't know how I knew. I still wasn't sure I should trust my instincts when I showed up here. I about had a panic attack just standing outside the door, trying to get the courage to knock on it.

"But now, everything makes sense," she concluded, her expression sage. "I couldn't do it before because I was waiting for you."

Edward stared at her, unable to speak over the lump that was lodged in his throat. She could see the doubt in his eyes, so she sought to erase it.

"No one else would have been as patient with me as you were tonight. As gentle and thoughtful and . . . kind. You made my first time perfect."

He couldn't stop a self-deprecating snort from escaping. "I couldn't even slow down enough so that it would be good for you, too. If I would have held out longer, maybe you could have come. I was anything but perfect."

"I didn't say _you_ were perfect. No one is. I never expected sex to be perfect either, and I never will. But you did everything in your power to make my first time wonderful, and because of that, it was. I can't imagine losing my virginity a better way, to a better guy. So . . . thank you."

If she had meant to lessen his disbelief, she had failed. His countenance was one of utter bewilderment.

"Don't thank me, Bella. You paid me well to make this night as perfect for you as possible," he reminded her. He wasn't sure if he meant it as a barb, or just a grim truth.

She wasn't sure how to take it, either. But she soon realized the real truth of the matter.

"You didn't go to all that effort because I paid you," she said quietly.

Her bittersweet-chocolate stare dared him to deny it.

His sea-green gaze could not.

"I guess you do know the stuff that matters," he whispered.

That pleased, self-satisfied smile he had come to know spread across her face. She scooted closer to him and tucked her head snugly under his chin. He took her in his arms, pressing his lips briefly into her hair. Blanketed in Bella's warm embrace and cool breath on his neck, Edward fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

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><p><strong>A million thanks to all of you for the great feedback so far! I'd love to give each and every one of you a hug and a kiss just so I could watch you say "Ew!" and wipe the back of your hand across your face. <strong>

**Special thanks to Jess, Corie and all the lovely Pervs at the Perv Pack's Smut Shack for the wonderful rec in this week's Lemon Report! I was flattered, excited, maybe even a little turned on. *fans self* ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

**Stephenie Meyer created them. Then I made them do stuff like this.**

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><p>The hotel's room-darkening shades were altogether too effective, Bella decided. She had slept well into the morning after a restless night.<p>

She hadn't been able to shut off her brain. It swirled with unanswered questions about the intimate stranger lying next to her, his features dimming as the candles burned themselves out one by one. She couldn't stop wondering about Edward's past. Wondering how the events of his life had led him here, to her - and to all the nameless, faceless females before her. Did he treat them as well as he had treated her? She couldn't bear to think about the others - couldn't face that particular ugly truth.

She was still curious if Edward was his real name. If so, maybe it had been passed down from his family. Maybe he was an Edward, Junior, or an Edward the Third. He did look rather regal. His angular features were softened by sleep, but the high cheekbones and square jaw still gave him an undeniably aristocratic appearance.

"My Prince Charming," she'd whispered into his softly snoring countenance sometime during the night. She was only half-kidding. Compared to what she was used to, he had certainly treated her like a princess.

She liked the feel of him lying next to her, holding her, even if it kept her from sleeping. She suspected she could get used to it easily enough. Sleep was overrated anyway. She clung to him every bit as tenaciously as he did her, and hoped the morning would take its sweet time coming.

Edward, on the other hand, slept unusually well. The few times he'd opened his eyes, he was more than happy to see Bella's pretty face close to his. He couldn't seem to let go of her. Her delicate scent and soft skin brought him a peace he rarely found in the other strangers he'd bedded, but he was too weary to wonder why. He simply allowed himself to enjoy a good night's rest in her arms.

When he awoke, he simply enjoyed her being there. Unlike most mornings, he was in no hurry to leave his date's side, or wake her and oust her from the room. He liked the warmth of her arm across his chest and her leg draped over his as she lay facing him, sound asleep. Her unconscious touch served to harden his morning wood and make him want to wake her for reasons far different than asking her to leave.

But he doubted her body could handle any more sex, so he settled for studying her instead. She looked exactly the same as she had last night, save the smudged eyeliner, which only made her appear more sultry. She didn't wear much make-up - she didn't need to. Hers was a quietly feminine beauty: heart-shaped face; full, slightly pouting lips; rounded, freckled nose; precisely plucked but subtly arched brows. He longed to see her porcelain complexion fresh-scrubbed after a shower. Better yet, maybe she could be convinced to shower with him. He imagined bathing her, running soapy hands over every inch of her alabaster skin, and his dick only got harder at the thought.

He should have been careful what he wished for while he was waiting for her to arrive at the hotel last evening. He had prayed he would find her attractive, or at least find something appealing in her personality. He had never counted on being so utterly charmed and perplexed by her, in equal measure. She intrigued him, amused him, exasperated and challenged him.

He didn't need any more challenges in his life. This wasn't the first time he'd had to deal with a better-than-expected date. No matter how attracted he was to a client, he was always able to walk away. He had to.

But he had no idea how he was going to walk away from Isabella Swan.

She stirred, then sighed, her breath fanning across his neck. She snuggled into him, and his arm instinctively tightened around her. He was surprised at how naturally intimacy came to them. He felt comfortable with her when he should have felt anything but.

He watched to see if she would wake up, but her breathing was deep and slow. He absent-mindedly stroked her hair as memories of their night together sifted through his brain. He normally sorted and filed away only the important details of a client's background - the ones that would come in handy should she ever hire him again. He even kept written notes in the back of his day planner, like a crib sheet to help him prep for his next exam.

But every detail about Bella Swan seemed weighted equally in importance, from her likes and dislikes to her past troubles with boys; from her bashful grin to the sounds she made when he kissed her, touched her, fucked her. He relived in vivid detail the moment he'd made her come, mentally cataloguing everything he had done to bring her to that point of release. And then he recalled how incredible it felt to come inside her - how her body seemed designed to give him the most intense pleasure imaginable. He wanted to give that back to her so badly he could taste it, could feel it throbbing in between his legs.

He was rock-hard now. He wanted to wake her and beg her to relieve his misery, one way or another. Or maybe he should just slip out of bed and go relieve himself in the bathroom. If he did, that would certainly be a first. He couldn't remember the last time he'd jerked off. He usually had more sex than he wanted, though most guys would probably scoff at that complaint. He couldn't help it - in his line of work, he'd come to value quality or quantity. Maybe the latter was enhancing his discernment of the former. These days, very few women turned him on the way the girl lying next to him did.

He wasn't sure anyone ever had.

He had just come to the conclusion that he was going to have to go take care of business himself when Bella stirred again, making a little moaning noise that nearly made him do the same. She squeezed him more tightly to her and the groan he'd been stifling escaped. She smiled a little and her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze unfocused in the muted morning light.

"Hey, sleepyhead," he teased, ruffling her messy hair.

"Hey," she mumbled groggily, lifting her head and squinting at him. "What time is it? Is it late?"

"Not really," he answered. "About nine a.m."

"Oh." She looked like she wasn't sure if that was late or not. To him it was, but he remembered his college days. This time of day might be tantamount to the crack of dawn for Bella.

"I'm sorry if I overslept," she said, apparently hedging her bets.

He chuckled and ruffled her hair some more. "I'm not in any hurry." He had to be out of the hotel and on the road by eleven o'clock, but he kept that bit of information to himself. He was already uneasy about how quickly the next couple of hours would pass.

She nodded and laid her head back down on the pillow, facing him. He rolled onto his side to face her as well.

"How do you feel this morning?" he asked, reaching gentle fingers to the side of her face.

"I feel great," she said, a slow smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"So you're okay? Not too sore?"

Her smile grew at his concern. "Not really." She felt fine now, but she suspected that if he touched her down there, she would feel the sting of last night's sexual awakening.

"It'll be better next time, I promise. And then every time after that. It's only going to get better for you from here on out. You got the worst of it out of the way."

She nodded, but felt no reassurance. He was speaking as if he had done his job, and now she was free to go on and have great sex with other guys. She realized with sickening clarity that she wanted her second time - and third, and fourth, and probably fiftieth time - to be with him.

But sex with Edward Cullen was a luxury she couldn't afford.

It suddenly hit her that she'd had no plan for her love life after hiring a professional to dispense with her hymen once and for all. Her goal certainly had _not_ been to sleep around with every guy on campus. So what had she hoped to gain by dropping the "virgin" disclaimer from her name? She supposed that she'd wanted to lose her fear of the unknown, and gain some self-confidence in preparation for meeting a guy with whom she really wanted to share herself, in every way.

But what was she supposed to do when that guy was already here, staring at her from across the scene of the crime? The escort was supposed to be her starter guy - the warm-up horse to prepare her for the actual race. She should have known by Edward's photograph that she'd never find a finer stallion than him. She'd set the bar too high. Now she was going to have to go back to her old corral and settle for far less than the beautiful thoroughbred she'd mounted last night.

She grimaced at both her realization and her bad metaphors. Edward interpreted her expression as dread, and he began to worry that last night was something Bella would rather forget than repeat.

"I'm sorry if I hurt you," he apologized in a hushed voice. He didn't know what else to say. Was the first time bad for all girls, or was he solely to blame? He'd certainly never had any complaints before, but the stakes had never been so high, either.

"You didn't hurt me," she said emphatically. "I told you, last night was great. Amazing." She could see that he was unconvinced. "In fact, I'd be willing to do it all again right now if I didn't have morning breath," she added with a laugh.

"You don't have morning breath," he contradicted her. "And that wouldn't stop me anyway, just so you know."

"Oh, my morning breath might. And everyone wakes up with bad breath. You're just not close enough to me to suffer the full effect."

"Is that so?" he said, scooting nearer. He reached under the sheet and slid his hand around her hip to the small of her back, pulling her to him. "Apparently you don't know the rule, then."

"What rule?" she asked with a grin, craning her neck back so as not to breathe on him.

He wasn't having any of that. His arm tightened around her and he bowed his head to hers.

"Two cases of morning breath cancel each other out," he informed her.

She let out a laugh, but turned her face so her exhalation wouldn't hit him in the face. "Sounds like wishful thinking to -"

She was cut off by his kiss. Stale wine breath and cottony tongues tangled together despite her feeble struggles to avoid it, but she soon discovered she didn't care. She remembered what Edward had said last night about leaving her inhibitions at the door, and she decided she wanted to leave all her self-conscious hang-ups there, too.

So she kissed him back, with relish. She pressed herself against him and soon felt the heat of his erection poking her belly. Her body reacted in exactly the same manner it had last night, despite her soreness today: her skin tingled, her stomach knotted, her sex pulsed and brimmed with cream. How did he do this to her so quickly, so easily? Her pelvis moved rhythmically with his, her thigh taking great pleasure in rubbing between his legs. He groaned and grabbed her ass, then ran his hand down her wayward thigh, encouraging it at first before lifting it to fit snugly around his hip. It was only a matter of seconds before the tip of his cock nudged her wet opening with intent. He was more than ready to take her again, condoms and sore vaginas be damned.

"You've got to stop doing this to me," he begged, half to himself.

"Doing what?" she taunted. She needed to hear him say it, as if the words would make his desire real.

"Making me want you so badly," he murmured between heavy breaths. "I can't do this to you again."

"Why not?" She pouted, tilting her hips to take him in. A mere inch or two of his girth had entered her when she gasped sharply and winced at the rawness of her skin.

"That's why not," he said, pulling away from her gently.

She stubbornly reached out for what her body couldn't handle. "It's not fair. I want you. Let's try again - you said it would be better the second time."

He groaned in frustration as her lips brushed along his jaw, her fingers stroked his back, and her goddamned perfect thigh teased his cock once more.

"Your second time _will_ be better - in a couple of days. Not now," he tried to reason with her.

"But you won't be around in a couple of days," she whispered. Their eyes met and shared the same disappointment. Perversely, this only encouraged Bella, now assured of his feelings for her.

"You're here now," she stated. Her thigh rubbed; his cock throbbed. "You're ready now. I can be ready, too, I promise you." She brought her hand down between them and slid her fingers over his erection, stroking and then gripping more firmly. The brown eyes gazing into his were plaintive. "I don't want to disappoint you."

"Oh, baby," he sighed regretfully. He wondered why he called her that. He never called anyone 'baby.' But he'd done it last night, and now he just did it again. Bella wasn't the only one experiencing some firsts.

"Listen. Junior down there wakes up ready every morning. That doesn't mean he gets what he wants every morning. In fact, he is disappointed on a regular basis. He'll live."

Her grip became firmer, and so did he. She pumped him slowly, her fingers enjoying the texture of smooth skin over increasingly rigid flesh and blood.

"He doesn't have to be disappointed today." She released her grip and palmed him instead, fingertips reaching down to the soft skin of his scrotum, then cupping underneath his balls, massaging them. The shaky breath he exhaled belied his impending surrender. If she really wanted him, who was he to deny her?

The corners of her mouth twisted in triumph as her hand continued its seduction. "And Junior won't be offended by my morning breath, either," she posited, as if her argument needed more justification.

Edward couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't think there's much you could do to offend either of us right now."

She smiled and leaned in to kiss his neck, then his Adam's apple. She liked to tease the sensitive bump that gave him that heavenly speaking voice, so deep and soft and sensuous. Even more, she liked the gravelly sound he emitted when she gently licked its contours.

She moved her mouth down his throat to his clavicle, her tongue tracing its rigid outlines before drifting to the coarse tufts of hair scattered across his chest. Her hand finally left his cock for a moment to slide up his belly, examining the warm skin covering taut muscle beneath. God, she loved his body, long and lean with just the right amount of fleshiness to feel substantial beneath her, and above her.

She grinned again at her memories of last night. She wanted to make more now. She intended to study and memorize him, for this might be her last chance. Her smile faded at the thought and she scooted down a bit, kneeling next to him so that both hands were free to roam over his body. She pushed the covers down to expose him to her eyes and fingers and lips.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, her self-consciousness forgotten. There was no point in keeping her thoughts or feelings to herself now that their time together was nearing its end.

Edward's chest tightened at her earnest words, her hungry gaze. His insides twisted with some kind of emotion he didn't recognize, and his cock ached with maddening want. Bella was the epitome of her name, her slender form crouched over him, curtain of ebony hair tickling his torso, petite tear-drop breasts pointing at him, begging to be tasted.

"You're the beautiful one," he told her, reaching out to stroke her hair before settling his hand on the nearest breast. He softly massaged and squeezed its nipple until it pebbled beneath his touch.

She appeared as if she were trying very hard to believe him, and he wished she didn't have to try so hard. But at least she didn't argue with him. She merely lowered her face to his chest and kissed him, then licked and teased his own nipples until they hardened along with hers. He brushed his fingers through her hair, then trailed them down her arm while she massaged and kissed him in turn. He closed his eyes for a moment, concentrating on the delectable sensations flooding him from her touch. By the time she had reached his cock again, it was straining against his torso, desperate for the feel of her tongue and her fingertips.

His groan was louder than he expected when her mouth finally made contact. His eyes flew open in time to watch her tongue glide down the underside of his cock to the base, then back up again. She was poetry in motion, her mouth taking him in, swallowing him down, then letting him out again. Her hands picked up the slack, one after the other, and she seemed to make a game of it: mouth, left hand, right hand, repeat. By the time she advanced to sucking and stroking him simultaneously, nearly every breath that escaped him was infused with groaning appreciation.

"Why do you feel so fucking good?" he mumbled uselessly. She laughed, her breath tickling his dick and answering his unanswerable question. It was just _her_, for whatever reason. She was irresistible to him. He reached for her now, running his hand along the perfectly plump swell of her ass and down the curve of her thigh. He pulled at her gently, turning her so that he could see the parting of her legs and the soft, pink lips between them. He had to touch her, had to know if she was anywhere near as turned on as he was. He could be gentle. He would be, for her.

Her breath caught at the feel of his fingers, stroking and then probing gently. She paused and breathed heavily on his groin, which he seemed to enjoy. She felt her back arch and her legs part, marveling at her body's instincts taking over. Her moan had teeth - a guttural reaction to his touch on her tender skin. But she didn't move away. In fact, she found her hips mimicking the pace of his fingers as he dipped them into her opening and then back out again.

She was dripping, he noted with satisfaction. Utterly dripping wet. He spread the moisture up and down, smoothing it over her clitoris, massaging until she moaned again, her breath hot and heavy on his swollen cock. As he brought his sticky fingers to his lips to taste her, he realized that he could very likely make her come again without hurting her. Where his cock and fingers might bruise, his tongue could still give pleasure.

"Let me taste you," he coaxed, gently grasping her thigh and pulling it toward him. A decadent thrill raced through her as she realized what he wanted to do. She allowed him to position her body over his, knees on the mattress next to his shoulders, thighs spread wide in preparation for his face between them. His fingers gripped her cheeks, pulling her open, and she quivered with anticipation. The minute his tongue teased her clit, an ecstatic shudder racked her body and she collapsed upon him. He buried his face between her legs, and she was gone.

Somewhere through the delirium that seized her, she realized that she had completely neglected the pleasure she'd been giving him. She bowed her head and took him in her mouth, only to feel his tongue enter her a split-second later. They moaned in unison and the vibrations only heightened their mutual desire. Hungry mouths attacked even hungrier sex. Heads bobbed and hands stroked in time together, taking cues from one another, giving ecstasy that coiled and tightened and spiraled until it could no longer be contained.

She came first, shockwave after shockwave barreling through her. She cried out, she swore, she gripped his thighs in her fingers and trembled with contractions. He clutched her quaking body to his with possessive triumph until her orgasm slowly subsided. When he was assured of her satisfaction, he allowed himself to let go. He sank his teeth into her right cheek to muffle the groans as his cock erupted into the warm, wet pocket of Bella's mouth. The intoxicating scent of her pussy assaulted him while the sensation of her sucking and swallowing pushed him over the edge. He fought the urge to sob like a baby again, it felt so fucking perfect.

They lay still for a moment, panting into each other's genitals, both dazed and dumbstruck. He had never dreamed he could find this kind of transcendence with any client, let alone a virgin. He was amazed at how much he loved being her first, in so many ways. He knew he was in danger of growing arrogant about it, now that he was reassured of how much pleasure he'd given her.

She was amazed at how good it felt to be this brazen, this wanton. To lie spread eagle atop this man, letting him devour her and make her lose control of her inhibitions. To be completely responsible for making him lose control too, and doing a spectacularly good job of it, at that.

Bella slowly raised herself up and turned around to face Edward. He sat up to meet her gaze. They studied each other, bodies glistening with sweat, faces shining with sex and saliva, eyes heavy with meaning.

They kissed, tasting each other, joining once more in total abandon.

It was the taste of freedom about to end.

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><p><strong>Many thanks once again for all the great feedback, youse guise! I'm in awe. You all rock.<strong>

**Speaking of rocking, my eternal grateful thanks to Betti Gefecht for the great fic rec at the end of her latest "Little Green and Easybella" chapter. That was above and beyond, chica! You are a rockstar, for sure. Bless you and all your readers who moseyed on over to check out my little fic. (And I did buy some extra panties for this chapter, and any future ones like it. ;) xoxoxo**


	13. Chapter 13

**They say all good things must come to an end. Or must they?. . .**

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><p>"Are you hungry? I can call room service, if you'd like."<p>

The sound of Edward's question made Bella glance up from the bathroom sink, where she had just finished brushing her teeth. He appeared hesitant as he leaned in the doorway. He was dressed now, wearing the same pants and wrinkled shirt as last night, sleeves rolled up, shirt collar open. He looked as cool and casual as a million bucks could look.

"No, I'm good," she said, self-consciously wiping the remnants of toothpaste from the corners of her mouth.

"Okay," he said quietly, leaving her to finish getting ready.

She wanted to tell him to go ahead and order something for himself, but she had the sneaking suspicion that he had other plans. He'd become increasingly quiet since their foray into the joys of "sixty-nine," and she wasn't sure why. "Shower with me?" he'd suggested shortly afterward, sounding remarkably unsure of himself for someone who had rocked her world minutes before. Did he really think her answer might be "no?"

He refused to use the hotel-issued wash cloth on her, instead lathering up almost an entire bar of mini-soap between his palms and then transferring the suds to her in the most maddeningly sensual way possible. She had never had such a total body massage before - well, any massage, for that matter - and her senses were an overwhelming mess of tingles and shivers by the time he was done. He left not one square inch of her untouched. His fingers had probed every bit of skin, every nook, every cranny.

The feel, the sight, of each one of these was carefully catalogued in Edward's mind. The delicate collarbone feeding into soft, round shoulders. The curve of her backbone leading to the swell of her heart-shaped ass. The concave dimples at the top of each cheek - he kissed them both because he could not let them go unappreciated. The slope of her thighs narrowing to slender calves. The fleshy pad of each toe, descending from big to small, and her giggle of ticklishness as he slid his fingers between each.

Then he began his ascension: up pale shins, over slightly bony knees; pressing into shapely thighs before settling into triangular valley; continuing over soft belly to ridges of ribs; up twin hills of ivory flesh to their rose-petal peaks. He wasn't a particularly religious man, but he thought he saw God in this girl, if there was one.

She wondered if he was doing the very thing she had sought to do with him earlier - memorizing what was about to disappear from sight and touch. Why would he bother? Wasn't he on to the next one, and the one after that? While she would go on to. . .

She didn't know whom. And so, when he was finished, she performed the same ritual on him, worshipping with soapy hands and reading him as a blind girl would. The broad, masculine shoulders; the hard back muscles supporting pale, mole-flecked skin; the snow-white scoops of flesh that felt so soft yet so firm between her fingers; the thick hamstrings and ridges of calf muscle that defined his long legs.

She mimicked his ascent, hands roaming up muscular legs, pausing to trace the delicious indentation marking his typically male hips, then stroking the semi-erect evidence of his masculinity.

"So soon?" she whispered with a half smile as she threaded her fingers through the hair that snaked up his abdomen.

"Junior likes you," Edward replied, mustering a half-grin. "A lot."

"Well, I don't have a name for my girly bits, but they're pretty fond of you, too."

She ended her reverent study with one last examination of his taut belly and subtly sculpted chest, before resting on the thick sinews of his stubble-covered neck. They kissed, and rinsed, and kissed some more. They toweled each other dry in silence, then parted ways to take care of more mundane business.

Bella gargled some mouthwash from the travel-size bottle she'd brought in her toiletry bag, then spit and rinsed the excess from her mouth. Her breath was finally minty fresh. Sterile. The taste she used to relish now seemed overly medicinal, and she made a face in the mirror. All traces of Edward were gone now. She reached her hand under her robe to touch herself, to poke the raw skin until it hurt. She smiled with perverse relief as she withdrew her fingers, then gave her hands a quick wash.

"Here's your clothes," came more soft words from the doorway. She turned to take last night's filmy blue dress and discarded lingerie from Edward's hands, and the contact was all-too brief.

"Thanks." She was surprised at how subdued her own reply was.

He politely closed the door behind him after he left, which seemed ludicrous in light of the physical intimacy they'd just shared. She fished around in her oversized purse and pulled out a clean change of underwear, wishing she'd brought shorts and a t-shirt as well. She felt silly putting her evening dress and heels back on. It would make the walk of shame to her truck even more embarrassing. Every person she passed in the hotel lobby would know what she'd been up to the night before. Worse yet, they might even think _she_ was the hooker.

She froze in horror at the thought. Not that others would assume she was a prostitute, but that she had just placed Edward in that category with relieved superiority. He was so very much more than that. Besides, she had bought his services, so that made her no better or worse than he was.

She felt ashamed as she dressed and put her wet hair in a ponytail. Edward deserved better than the mental treatment she had just given him. She grabbed her handbag and hurried to the bathroom door, calling out to him.

"Edward, are you -"

Her words were cut off abruptly as she opened the door and plowed right into him. They collided with noisy exclamations as Bella's purse went flying, personal accoutrements scattering in every direction. Looking down in dismay, she realized that Edward had been carrying his overnight bag, and it had fallen to the floor as well. She colored in embarrassment while he cursed and apologized; then they dropped to the floor to retrieve their things.

He was about to return his day planner to his travel bag, but was distracted by Bella's backside in his face as she reached under the sink for an errant tube of lipstick. In a sudden burst of inspiration, he shoved the small, black notebook deep inside her handbag. By the time she had turned her attention back to her purse, he was already sitting back on his heels, smiling beatifically.

"Did you get everything?" he asked.

She glanced around the floor. "I think so."

"Good. I'm sorry I ran into you like that. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry, 'clumsy' is pretty much my middle name," she admitted sheepishly.

"I don't believe that," he argued.

"You haven't seen me in action." Her laugh was more of a snort.

He remembered her body moving fluidly, snakelike, over his as she'd slithered to the floor between his legs.

"I've seen enough to know better," he said.

She saw the flash of recollection in his eyes and her cheeks flushed further. Why on earth was she embarrassed now? The point was moot, at the very least. She averted her annoyingly self-conscious gaze to her handbag and fastened it shut. He offered her his hand to help her up, and she gratefully took it. Once standing, they held on just a little too long. Their eyes met and maintained the connection after their fingers reluctantly let go.

"I guess this is it." He wondered if the disappointment in his voice was as obvious as he feared.

"Yeah." She was none too pleased herself. She wondered how to make him understand how special he'd made her feel, even though she'd paid a hefty sum for the privilege. "I had a great time. You were . . . pretty wonderful to me." _Lame_, she chastised herself.

His mind whirled with flashbacks, most of them consisting of her giving in to him. Surrendering, accepting, giving back. And she was telling him that he was wonderful to her?

He frowned and reached for her chin, chucking it gently under the crook of his finger.

"You deserve nothing less," he said simply. _You deserve so much more._

He was ready to lean in and kiss her when a ringing noise met his ears. It was coming from the bag slung over his shoulder, and he soon recognized the annoying sound as his own phone. He scowled and dug out the offending device; it was Rosalie's direct line.

"I'd better take this," he apologized. He dropped his bag to the floor and left the room.

Bella sighed and turned to the sink, looking around to see if she had missed anything. There, precariously close to the edge of the countertop, sat one of her earrings. It was half of the pair that her grandmother had given her for her high school graduation, dainty diamonds with a small, tear-shaped pearl attached. They had belonged to her great-grandmother, whom Bella barely remembered. They were a family heirloom that she couldn't afford to lose.

Her relief was short-lived when a look through her purse revealed that the earring's mate was missing.

Her eyes darted around the room: over the counter, down to the floor, behind the toilet, in the shower. No, it couldn't be there; she had taken the earrings out and put them in her purse last night while Edward had been out in the hall with Emmett. She tried not to panic, and picked up Edward's overnight case from the floor to look under it. Nothing.

But when she set the bag back on the floor, she suddenly spied a dull gleam from within the side pocket. As she reached down to gratefully retrieve her found earring, she heard the honey-toned murmur of Edward's voice in the next room. The sound was irresistible, just like the rest of him. How could she go on without ever hearing that voice again?

She stood upright and glanced down at Edward's nylon bag again, to make sure the earring was safely ensconced the side pocket. She leaned over and pulled the zipper partly shut, just to make sure her jewelry would stay put until he opened the bag later.

She was still smiling to herself when he returned to the bathroom.

"That's an interesting grin," he noted.

"What do you mean?"

"Looks a little like the cat who ate the canary." His eyes narrowed. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"Probably. But I'm sure my secrets don't begin to compare to yours."

His smile faded. "Probably not." His eyes fell; his hand raised to agitate his still-wet hair. "I've checked out and called the valet. They should have our cars waiting by the time we get downstairs."

"Oh, okay." Her heart was beginning to feel leaden, as were her feet. The clumsy high heels didn't help. Edward's hand instinctively sought the small of her back, guiding her as she wobbled to the foyer. He opened the door for her and went right back to letting his hand hover near her waist, all the way to the elevator.

They stepped inside and found themselves alone in the tiny compartment. Edward pressed the ground floor button, and the doors slid shut with an elegant _swish_. As the muffled ding of the bell sounded, his eyes found Bella's. Seconds later, his bag fell to the floor a second time and he grabbed her, pulling her roughly against him. Their kiss was fierce, desperate, bordering on comical; except neither could manage to laugh when it came to a panting end.

He wanted to tell her how amazing she was. How different she made him feel. How grateful he was that she chose him. But nothing came out of his lips except heavy, clumsy breaths. He hoped his eyes were more eloquent as they searched hers for similar sentiments.

She stared up into his wild gaze and prayed it meant what she thought it did. She knew the past fifteen hours could never have the same significance for him as they did for her, but she hoped she had left some small impression on him, made some tiny difference in his life.

Another elegant _swish_ interrupted their moment, and they broke apart swiftly as the elevator doors re-opened on the tenth floor. A family - two parents, a young boy and a girl - piled into the tiny space, and they resumed their journey. Edward's fingers found Bella's and laced between them, though he looked straight ahead at the backs of the family's heads in front of them. She couldn't help but grin a little as she squeezed his hand. Neither let go, even after the elevator settled on the first floor and the family filed out. Their hands remained joined as they passed the nodding concierge and exited the lobby, where the valet waited patiently with their keys. Still clutching her fingers between his, Edward led Bella down the walk, then abruptly burst into laughter at the sight before him.

An ancient, rusted red truck fitting the description she had given him last night was sandwiched awkwardly among several luxury vehicles parked on the circular drive, appearing much like a fish - or whale - out of water. Edward admired the sheer size of the thing, its bulbous iron hood resembling the hull of a ship.

"Nice ride," he teased. He pulled her along after him while he walked the length of the vehicle, observing its patchy paint job and worn interior.

"Hey, it gets me where I need to go," she protested.

"Not very economically. You could actually save a lot of money if you got a smaller, newer car." They slowed as they neared the driver door.

"Oh, like yours?" She nodded back to the black hard-top convertible that she rightly assumed was his: sleek, shiny, foreign.

"Well, there are more affordable cars," he said in defense of his C70, "but I like the safety features on that one."

She quirked a surprised eyebrow at that. Very few guys her age were concerned about stability control and side curtain airbags. He sounded like her father in that regard. Charlie had paid Jake to install the latest safety features into Old Red before he let her take it to college.

"Safety is good," she concurred, giving him a curious look.

He ignored it and opened the truck door for her. It swung open slowly, protesting every inch of the way with a grating squeal.

"A little WD-40 can work wonders," he suggested with a chuckle.

"Yeah, good lube is key," she shot back, giving him a provocative look before climbing into the truck.

Damn her anyway, taunting him like that. He already wanted her again, and he hadn't even left her yet.

"I'll keep that in mind for the future," he replied. He didn't know how or when, but he was determined to see her again, and soon. His day planner in her purse was his insurance policy.

She was dazzled by the cocky grin that spread over his face. "_Now_ who's the cat that ate the canary?" she commented.

He leaned in the rusty doorframe and grabbed her chin gently in one hand, giving her a lingering kiss.

"See you soon, Bella," he whispered with a knowing smirk.

"I hope so," she answered, envisioning her earring safely tucked inside Edward's overnight bag.

He reluctantly pulled away from her, then slammed the heavy door shut and stood watching until her monster truck disappeared down the long drive. She observed him watching her in the rearview mirror until the hotel was out of sight.

She wore her own Cheshire cat grin all the way back to the dorm.

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><p><strong>Bless you all for all the great feedback, everyone! And special thanks to those of you who voted The Agreement into the Top Five Fics of the Week at The Lemonade Stand! You, and everyone at the blog, have helped make this a very happy week for me, despite some work stress that has made me want to tear my hair out by the roots. Instead, I still have a full head of hair, and an inbox full of reviews and alerts to boot. You rock! xoxoxoxo<strong>


	14. Chapter 14

Edward stared absently at the back of the blonde head on the pillow next to his. He noticed that the roots were showing, a combination of mouse-brown and telltale gray. She had told him she was thirty-three, but he figured she was forty if she was a day. He didn't mind being lied to by clients. It was easier if he didn't know their stories, and most of the time he didn't really care to hear them.

There were exceptions, every now and then. He thought about the most recent one. He was reasonably sure he could never know enough about _her_.

He imagined her lustrous brunette hair on the pillow beside him instead of the broomstick blonde. He would not be able to keep his fingers out of those dark, silky strands if she was here. He would roll toward her and pull her closer until his body fit neatly around hers like a glove on hand. The soft scent of fruit and spice and sex would settle in his nostrils, and he would sleep then. He'd slept like a baby with her. Spent, sated, content.

Contentment was elusive tonight.

He wondered why she hadn't found his day planner yet. Maybe she had, and she was too appalled at his schedule to bother returning it to him. But what else could he have left behind that would prompt her to call the agency in search of him? He needed his phone too much to sacrifice it, and toiletries were too trivial to warrant any further concern on her part. He hadn't had time to think properly in that moment when their belongings had spilled together on the tiled floor. He only knew that he was desperate for an excuse to see her again, so he'd shoved his appointment book into her oversized bag before he had time to change his mind.

And now he waited.

He wasn't patient by nature. It was an attribute he worked hard to cultivate, and he had become much better at it as an adult. But Bella Swan seemed to have stripped him of that nicety. From the beginning, she had reverted him to his true nature and reduced him to his baser wants and needs. He feared her power over him in that regard. But more than that, he craved it.

The waiting was made doubly irritating when he realized what he had left inside his day planner. He didn't really care about the appointments penned neatly between its narrow margins, since it was merely a back-up for the schedule readily available on his phone. But he was uneasy the minute it dawned on him that one of his most cherished mementos was tucked inside the planner's black cover. He needed that back as much as he needed to see Bella again.

Three days. Why would she wait that long to return his belongings to him? He wanted to contact her himself, but of course, he couldn't. The agency would never give him her number or address. That was part of the agreement he signed with each client - he was not allowed to instigate any personal contact outside the parameters of a paid Renaissance Escorts date. Only the client could seek out an employee's company. The agreement did not work in reverse.

And so he waited. And wanted. He wanted Bella far more than his planner. He hoped she wanted him enough to buy another evening with him, even though he had no idea how she could afford it. He would definitely see her for free if it wasn't against the rules.

_Fuck the rules, _he heard her voice echo in his head. If only he were at liberty to do that.

_Forget free. I'd pay her. _His thoughts were wistful as he looked askance at the blonde. His lip curled in something like distaste at the artificial color.

It didn't quite occur to Edward to consider any relationship as more than a barter anymore. He hadn't had a real date, by most people's definition, in almost two years. He was used to payment for services rendered. So it was quite significant, and disconcerting, that he was willing to reverse the flow of commerce for Isabella Swan.

He closed his eyes and imagined the smell, the feel, of her now. So tiny beneath him, yet so strong. Though he'd worried about hurting her during her first time, he knew he wouldn't break her, even when he plunged between her thighs with an urgency he couldn't control. He had known deep down that she could take it, virginity be damned. She was made for it. Made for _him_. He knew it instinctively, even before he was able to marvel at the sensation of fitting so perfectly inside her.

He wondered if she realized how rare their connection was. Probably not. He had been her first, so she'd had no experience to the contrary, other than aborted back-seat fumblings with other boys. She had no way of knowing that sex wasn't always like that - heated and delirious and transcendent. She couldn't know how difficult it was to find that seamless fit, like an expertly crafted dovetail joint; or that effortless movement as one, like a well-oiled hinge. She had no clue how elusive and mysterious that perfect union had always been for him.

He worried that she had irrevocably changed him. Made him even less satisfied with his lot in life, and his reluctantly chosen path. For now he knew that he would find the others even more wanting than he had before. What had been tolerable, even pleasurable on most occasions, would now be only a disappointment.

He first realized it last night, when he had to close his eyes after he'd mounted the fiery redhead so that he could imagine brown hair instead. It hit him again tonight, as he squeezed the ample, tanned flesh of the blonde next to him and longed for slender, ivory limbs encasing him. He'd been lucky that his Sunday dates hadn't involved sex. He wasn't sure he could have been up to the task after the time he'd spent with Bella.

He burned for her now, growing erect and frustrated thinking about their night together. He didn't know exactly why it was so different. He only knew that it was, and there was no going back and undoing the damage now. There was no way to forget how she stirred a desire so strong in him that it was all he could do to keep himself in check; how she made his body's needs obliterate rational thought; how she brought him to a release so violent it felt like a bomb detonating in his groin.

He wanted her again. Surely she wanted him, too. Even though he had hurt her at first, he was fairly sure that eventually she had enjoyed herself. Her pleasure had been so close to overtaking the pain. He could see it on her face, hear it in her cries, feel it when she clutched him so tightly and nearly pulled his hair out by the roots. He wished he could have held out longer - maybe she would have been able to come. He felt like he had left his mission unfinished by not giving her an orgasm during intercourse. He was glad he'd been able to produce them orally, but that wasn't enough. She deserved to have the full experience of truly great sex, and he was the one for the job. He couldn't stand the thought of her turning to those stupid school boys who treated her like she was some toy for them to play with.

_Fuck. _He needed another chance. He had to have her again. He would figure out a way to have her again.

This was the mantra he repeated, and the fantasy he imagined, in order to drift off to sleep. It helped when he turned his back on the blonde and clutched a bed pillow to himself instead.

He slept fitfully and woke early. He was showered and dressed by the time his companion awoke and gave him a drowsy, lust-filled gaze from the bed.

"Leaving so soon, handsome?" she cooed in what he figured must be her attempt at a seductive tone.

"Yes, I have an early morning appointment," he lied.

The blonde pouted. If she was aiming for cute or winsome, she'd failed. "You sure I can't change your mind about that? Tame your morning wood for you?" she added with a wink.

He had already done that in the shower, imagining Bella's lips wrapped around him.

"Sorry," he said, mustering an expression of what he hoped looked like disappointment. "It's really not something I can get out of. Maybe next time."

He wished he could remember the blonde's name. He wasn't above rummaging through a woman's purse to find her driver's license in instances such as this, but he hadn't thought to do it. Normally he was careful to memorize all the important information about a client ahead of time so that she would feel special, and perhaps call him again. Repeat business was his bread and butter. He began to feel almost annoyed with Isabella Swan for throwing him off his game. No matter how great a lay she was, he needed to keep sight of what was important. He was making great money these days, and he needed every penny.

He returned to the bathroom and scooped up his overnight bag, noisily throwing it on the countertop. He grabbed his razor and deodorant off the sink and was ready to drop them in the side pocket when he noticed something shiny wedged in the bottom. He reached inside and drew out a dainty, rather old-fashioned earring. He studied it with curiosity. He couldn't call to the blonde by name, so he searched for another term of endearment instead.

"Hey, sweetheart -" he cringed at the word - "did you lose an earring?"

She appeared in the doorway a moment later, wearing a flimsy silk bathrobe that she had obviously packed for the occasion. She glanced at the piece of jewelry between his fingers and made a face.

"Looks like an antique. Not my style, hon. Must be from one of your other conquests." She raised a mildly miffed eyebrow at him and returned to the bedroom.

He didn't bother apologizing, since she knew damned well what he did for a living. He thought back to the redhead, but her style had been much more Bohemian, and he distinctly remembered the large art nouveau jewelry she wore with her funky dress.

And then a flash of memory hit with thrilling clarity. That dainty earring had tickled his nose when he'd wrapped his arms around Isabella Swan's lithe body and kissed the tender skin of her neck.

He appraised the shiny bauble with renewed interest. An ivory teardrop pearl dangled from a tiny cluster of diamonds that glittered as he turned the earring to and fro. He wondered if it was a family heirloom of some kind. It did have the look of an antique. Surely Bella would be missing a piece of jewelry like this, especially if it had sentimental meaning to her. And if it did, then she would certainly understand why he needed to get his day planner back when she saw what was inside.

He frowned at the earring and wondered again why the hell she hadn't called him. If he didn't know better, he might have taken it personally. But he knew she liked him. She had looked as sad to leave him as he'd felt inside. And that kiss in the elevator - the desperation was mutual. There had to be another explanation.

His frown slowly turned to a grin as another thought crossed his mind: now he had a legitimate reason to ask the agency for her contact information.

He hummed happily to himself as he slipped the earring back into his travel case and zipped it securely.

"You're in a good mood this morning," the blonde commented as she returned to the bathroom with an armful of hair products. Apparently the miniature bottles the hotel provided weren't good enough for her fading dye job.

"Well, I'd be in a better mood if I didn't have to leave you so soon," he said, sounding almost sincere this time. He leaned down and gave her a kiss on the cheek for good measure.

"Hmm," she muttered skeptically. She turned to the shower and began setting the bottles inside.

Edward crept back out to the bedroom and spied her handbag atop the dresser. He stealthily opened it and glanced through its contents until he hit pay dirt.

He returned to the bathroom and leaned rakishly against the door. "I hope you had as good a time as I did last night, Lauren," he said in his best sexy voice. "We should definitely do it again some time."

She turned and looked up at him, shaking her head and letting out a laugh. "You're too charming for your own good, Edward Cullen."

"And you're too lovely for yours," he added without a hitch.

Her eyes rolled this time. "Save it for one of your younger girls - they might actually fall for a line like that."

He gave her his best disarming grin. "You wound me, truly."

She snorted and gave him a playful shove. "Get out of here before I call your agency and demand that they change your booking today. Another twelve hours with you would be worth every penny." Her eyes raked lewdly over him, and he tried not to shudder in response.

Instead he took a deep breath and said, "I will gladly give you another twelve hours, Lauren. Just not today."

She grabbed him by the lapels and planted a kiss on him, while he tried not to inhale her morning breath.

_Morning breath . . . _

He drew away from her as quickly as feasible while Bella's thoughts on the subject ran through his mind. He said his good-byes with as much regret as he could muster, then let out an exaggerated sigh of relief once he was out the hotel door.

His grimace soon became an irrepressible grin as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed his boss.

"Renaissance Escorts, Rosalie Hale speaking. How may I help you today?" came her usual smooth-as-silk greeting.

"By bending the rules a little bit, that's how," he said without preamble. His own determined image stared back at him as he approached the shiny elevator doors at the end of the hall and punched the "down" button.

Rosalie always recognized the voices of her most-requested escorts. "Edward, you know I love you, darling, but I don't bend the rules. Ever."

"Not even if it's in the best interest of one of our clients?" he pressed.

An annoyed sigh met his ears. "Fine, let's hear it. This should be good."

"It's not a big deal, honestly. I found an earring that I'm pretty sure belongs to the girl I saw Saturday night, Isabella Swan. It looks like it might be a family heirloom or something. I'm sure she'd love to have it back."

"Well, that's easy enough. Just drop the earring off at the front desk with Tanya. I'll call Ms. Swan and tell her she can pick it up here."

Edward was ready for that reply. "No offense, but I trust Tanya about as far as I can throw her. If I give her that earring, she'll probably take it to the nearest pawn shop the minute I turn around."

"Okay then, bring it directly to my office. I'll see that Ms. Swan gets it."

Edward moved to plan B. "Well, I would do that, except that I'm not absolutely certain it's Bella's. I'd rather speak to her myself and have her describe the earring to me so I know for sure. Besides, I'm missing my day planner, and I'm wondering if she picked it up by mistake. We accidentally spilled all our things on the floor and I think that's how the mix-up happened."

Rosalie's sigh was exasperated this time. "Well, that's unfortunate, but it's not grounds for me to give you her phone number. I'll call her and find out if she came up with an extra planner and a missing earring. Then I'll let you know."

He executed plan C with a bit more desperation than the nonchalance he was aiming for. "Go ahead and give her my number - I could meet her somewhere to make the swap, and save us both having to drive all the way downtown. If she's willing, of course."

"Of course. We'll handle it however the client wants to handle it, as always." Rosalie's tone told him he hadn't fooled her for a minute. He knew the blasé attitude he typically displayed toward his customers was completely missing now. He didn't want to raise his boss's suspicions any further, so he played it cool.

"Right. Just let me know," he said casually. The elevator had reached the first floor. He exited and headed for the main desk to have his car brought to the front of the hotel.

"Will do. Oh, and in case you haven't checked your email, Siobhan called and asked if you can meet her for dinner at six before the play you're seeing tonight. What should I tell her?"

Edward tried to stifle his sigh. That meant less time at Charlotte's, his only true haven these days.

"Tell her that's fine. Text or email me the place."

"That's one of the things I love about you, Edward. You're so flexible. I know I can always count on you to keep our customers happy."

_Flexible? Try broke and desperate, _he wanted to reply. Instead he merely mumbled in agreement before hanging up. He hated Rosalie's perpetual tone of smug satisfaction. He knew he was one of a handful of the company's most sought-after escorts who kept her in new Beemers and designer shoes, her addictions of choice. He wished his vocation afforded him a fraction of the contentment that it obviously gave her.

He glanced at the time before he put his cell phone back in his pocket. He had some time to kill before he was due at Charlotte's house. He wondered if she would mind if he showed up early. She was probably enjoying tea and crumpets on the lanai, her favorite mid-morning ritual.

He was surprised that she hadn't moved back to England after her husband, Peter, died. Of course, he had left her an estate so grand that it would be hard to leave behind under any circumstances. She always said she felt an obligation to keep the place up the way Peter would have wanted, and Edward could understand that. He felt honored that she let him practice on the beautiful vintage Steinway in the conservatory, even though the fact that he could play was the initial reason she sought him out. And he was humbly grateful that she paid for his company as often as she did, especially because she asked nothing of him except a little conversation and the occasional game of chess or cards. He suspected that she hired him so frequently because she wanted him to have the money, and she knew he wouldn't take it outright.

_Sugar mama, _his brain taunted him. He didn't care if it was true. Any indignities he might suffer were nothing to Emily's suffering. After all she had done for him and Alice, it was his duty to keep what was left of their family intact.

After the valet dropped off his car, Edward left the Four Seasons and went straight to his favorite coffee shop. He ordered the usual no-nonsense one-hundred-percent Columbian with a shot of cream and sugar. He didn't bother to buy breakfast because he knew Charlotte would have a feast laid out for a king.

He had just settled into the ivory leather seat of his C70 and shoved the coffee cup snugly in the closest holder when his cell phone rang. He fished it out of his pocket and looked at the number, then felt a quick thrill of anticipation when he discovered he didn't recognize it.

"Hello. Edward Cullen speaking," he answered, as was his habit. Though he was not allowed to ask for a client's phone number, Rosalie was not above giving his out to prospective customers.

He was met with silence. But something in that silence bristled with electricity, and he knew right then and there who was on the other end of the phone.

He grinned and waited patiently for her speak. He could afford to be patient now. Because as soon as Bella Swan found her tongue, he knew the waiting would be through.

* * *

><p><strong>Holy crow, people...I'm still answering reviews from the last chapter, even as I post this one. You keep me hopping-don't stop! ;)<strong>

**Special thanks this time around to Chye-Lin for the lovely fic recs on her blog, Chye-Lin's Contemplations; and to Corie and Jess for another nod on The Perve Pack's Smut Shack. I'm verklempt at all the love, my dears! :')**


	15. Chapter 15

**Saturday  
><strong>_Isabella, 7 p.m. - dinner, Hotel 1000_

**Sunday  
><strong>_Katrina, 11:30 a.m. - brunch, Yacht Club  
><em>_Stephanie, 5 p.m. - dinner, Salvatore's_

**Monday  
><strong>_Victoria, 7 p.m. - art show, Riverton Gallery_

**Tuesday  
><strong>_Lauren, 6:30 p.m. - fundraiser/dinner, Four Seasons_

**Wednesday  
><strong>_Charlotte, Noon - lunch, her place  
><em>_Siobhan, 7:30 p.m. - play, Actors' Workshop_

Bella stared, dumbfounded, at Edward Cullen's schedule for the week. She hadn't even looked past today's date, because she was too shell-shocked at how many women he'd been with since he left her Sunday morning. Four. He'd had four "dates" in three days.

She glanced at the clock - it was 10 a.m. Soon he'd be lunching with woman number five, "Charlotte," at her place, wherever that was. Bella envisioned a rich socialite who liked to play with good-looking young men while her husband slaved away in some downtown high rise all day. And when he was done diddling her, he'd be on to number six, the exotically named "Siobhan," for an evening of amateur theater before God knows what kind of private show.

Bella felt sick. Mildly horrified, even. She was fully aware that she had no right to. She obviously knew better than anyone - well, except the dozens of other women in this day planner - what Edward did for a living. She had no illusions about their situation; no delusions that she meant more to him than any of these other females did. She'd simply hired him to make her feel like she did. And he had performed the charade flawlessly - she almost bought it.

She knew what the problem really was. She _wanted_ to buy it. She wanted to believe that there had been something special between her and Edward Cullen. That she was somehow different from all the rest. Unique.

But why should she think such a thing? She'd been unremarkable her entire life. She'd managed to obtain good grades throughout school, which had earned her several much-needed scholarships. But other than that, she had always blended in with the crowd. She was horribly un-athletic, had no musical aptitude, only marginally better artistic skills, and arguable writing talents. She conceded that she had grown into her looks a bit, filling out a little since her skinny, gawky youth. She could maybe, possibly think of herself as pretty, when she took the time to apply enough make-up.

That should have been her tip-off about Edward, right there - when he had insisted that she was beautiful. What a load. She had to hand it to him, though - he was certainly convincing. She'd been positive they had shared something more than just great sex. Their conversation on the couch, wrapped in those plush terry bath robes, had been one of her favorite parts of the evening. And then later, after the Final Deflowering, he had appeared so interested in learning more about her, listening to her yammer on about her family and her pathetic love life. He had seemed so sincere, so real, even though he'd balked at talking about himself.

And since that night, he'd practiced that sincerity on four other women already.

She closed the day planner and dropped it on the dorm bed where she sat, cross-legged. She couldn't look at any more pages. She didn't want to face the full enormity of her foolishness these past few days. She wished she had found his calendar earlier and saved herself the silly fantasies, but she rarely used her handbag. She hadn't glimpsed the small, black notebook in the bottom of her purse until she finally picked it up off the floor today to hang it in the closet.

She had known about the other girls, of course. But there was something about seeing the names, the dates and the places that drove reality home with the subtlety of a railroad tie through her skull.

Their names all sounded like sorority girl names. They sounded like the types of girls who always made Bella break into a cold sweat - the ones who were prettier, richer, funnier or more sophisticated than she was. The types who seemed to beg her to make an unwelcome comparison in which she always found herself lacking.

She wondered how many of the women were older. Edward couldn't have gained those mind-blowing sexual skills from spending all his time with clueless virgins. Her attempts at pleasuring him must have seemed so clumsy and amateurish to him, despite all his reassurances to the contrary. She felt a fresh wave of embarrassment wash over her, and she buried her face in her hands.

She finally peeked through her fingers at the day planner. Did she dare look at it further? Maybe it contained personal information. His real name; his address. His phone number. After all, she really needed to call him and let him know that she had his schedule. Surely he must have missed it by now. He probably just didn't know which of his groupies had walked off with it and he was too embarrassed to admit it.

She was reaching one timid hand toward the notebook when the ring of her cell phone startled her. She picked it up from her nightstand and looked at the caller information; she didn't recognize the number. A nervous jolt went through her - what if it was Edward? Maybe he'd finally found her earring, even if he didn't know she had his planner.

Her voice shook slightly when she answered hello.

"Isabella Swan?" an official-sounding, and disappointingly female, voice met her ears.

"Speaking."

"This is Rosalie Hale of Renaissance Escorts." Bella's nervous excitement resumed. She was surprised she hadn't recognized the icy blonde's voice from their first meeting, when she had stopped in to fill out the requisite paperwork. Rosalie was the exact type of woman who made Bella feel horribly inadequate in a multitude of ways, from her looks to her self-confident demeanor.

"I trust your recent engagement with Edward Cullen the other night was satisfactory?" Rosalie asked expectantly.

Bella didn't know which word sounded more ridiculous - "engagement" or "satisfactory."

"Oh, yeah. Edward was . . ." _amazing, mind-blowing, beyond my wildest dreams, a complete bastard for making me daydream about him nonstop since our "engagement."_ She ignored the mental barrage of choices and concluded, "more than I ever hoped for."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it." Rosalie sounded pleased, but not surprised. Why would she be? Edward was obviously one of her most popular gigolos. "The reason I'm calling is to inquire whether or not you may have lost an earring when you were with him the other night. If so, Edward believes he may have found it. He's looking for his day planner as well, and wondered if you had come across it."

_Finally_, she thought. His schedule proved what a workout his overnight bag got, and she was worried that her grandmother's gift might have fallen out of the side pocket and been lost forever.

"He found my earring?" Bella hoped she sounded surprised. "Wow, that's a relief. And I actually did just find his planner in the bottom of my purse. I don't know how it got in there."

"That's good news, then," Rosalie said brightly. "Edward suggested that the two of you meet up somewhere to return each other's things, but that's entirely up to you, of course. As you know, we never allow an escort to contact or pursue a client without her full knowledge and consent. All of our employees sign agreements to that effect, for your protection."

"Oh, right." She'd forgotten that was part of the contract they'd both agreed to. She had appreciated that safety measure at the time, but now she found it a little annoying. What if Edward had wanted to contact her sooner? But he did tell Rosalie he wanted to meet with her in person, so that had to mean something, didn't it?

No, it didn't, she crossly reminded herself. Believing such a thing would only get her into trouble.

"Edward told me to give you his number if you'd like to call him to arrange a meeting," Rosalie continued. "But you're welcome to drop his planner off and pick up your earring here at the agency, if you prefer."

"No, I'll call him," Bella blurted. Her heart was already galloping like a runaway horse again at the thought of phoning him, but the desire to see him again overpowered her fear.

"Great," Rosalie said in a satisfied tone, then rattled off Edward's phone number. Bella scrambled to her desk to write down the digits before she forgot them.

"Well, Bella, it was a pleasure speaking with you again. I do hope you'll think of us the next time you're in need of any escort services."

Bella was sure that Rosalie was aiming for warm and cordial, but her words were a bit too rehearsed to be convincing. She didn't care. She would soon be speaking to Edward again, and his tone was anything but cool and businesslike. She thought of it now, warm and husky, seeping into her eardrums and down her spine like molasses trickling slowly over a stack of pancakes. Sweet, rich, delicious.

She shivered and stared at his number as she said her good-byes to Rosalie. _Edward told me to give you his number. . . . _The words reverberated inside her head, taking on more meaning than they had any right to.

_He wants to talk to you_, the optimist inside her said beguilingly.

_He wants his day planner back_, the pragmatist replied with a sniff. _He wouldn't want to keep the lovely Siobhan waiting because he can't remember what time he was supposed to meet her._

The pragmatist helped her calm down a bit, but she wanted to give the optimist a fair shake. She really wouldn't know a thing about his motivations until she talked to him. And now was as good a time as any, she told herself.

She took a sip of the now-cold coffee that sat atop her desk, then situated herself on the bed with her phone in one hand and the scrap of paper containing Edward's number in the other. She took a couple of deep, calming breaths as her trembling fingers punched the digits. She steeled herself and waited, hearing nothing but the blood pounding through her ears.

His voice soon broke through the drumbeat of her heart. "Hello. Edward Cullen speaking."

Oh, God. That voice. Better than molasses. It wasn't fair, what that voice did to her. She couldn't speak. She couldn't breathe. It was just like that moment when she'd gaped at his tie for what seemed like ten years until he took her hand and helped her in the hotel door. After all they'd shared that night, how could he still make her this discombobulated?

"Bella, is that you?" he said. He sounded concerned. Shit, she was behaving like an idiot again. Ridiculous. Ridiculous that he should have this kind of effect on her motor skills.

"Yeah, hi," she finally stammered, her breath coming out in one long, shaky gust. "How did you know it was me?"

"I just got off the phone with Rosalie a few minutes ago. I told her to give you my number, so I was hoping."

She could almost hear the smile in his voice. It sounded like he really was hoping. Could it be true? She hated how badly she wanted to believe it.

"Yeah, so, um . . ." _Spit it out, moron. _"She tells me you found my earring?"

"I did, in my overnight bag. It must have fallen in there when I ran into you in the bathroom. I'm really sorry I didn't see it until today. It looks expensive, so I figured you would want it back."

How could he sound so smooth and confident when she felt like such a blithering idiot? She took another deep breath and tried to gather her wits.

"Yeah, those earrings were my great-grandmother's, so I'm really glad you found it," she said, feeling a little guilty for having used a family keepsake as bait. "Oh, and I found your planner, too. I didn't even open my purse until this morning, so I had no idea it was in there. If I had known, I would have called your agency right away."

"Well, it's just a backup for my phone. That's why I didn't notice it was gone at first," he explained.

"Right. Same with the earrings. I thought they were both in my purse until I went through it today." God, she was a terrible liar. She was sure he must be able to hear it in her voice. If so, he didn't let on.

"So, I was thinking that we could meet up somewhere and make the exchange. Maybe get a cup of coffee or something. If you'd like. I don't know if you like coffee, or. . ." he trailed off. This was the first time he sounded uncertain, and she was amazed at how relieved that made her.

"I love coffee," she assured him. "It's the only reason I have a pulse before ten a.m."

He laughed, and the sound was so toasty warm that Bella thought she might have to turn on her oscillating fan to cool down.

"I know a great place that's not too far from campus," he said, giving her the name and address. She knew where it was, though she'd never been there. It looked like the kind of unassuming shop where locals would go for a regular "cuppa," versus the boho coffee houses on campus that doubled as open mike venues in the evenings.

"Sounds good. How about tomorrow?" she suggested, hoping she didn't sound too eager. She already knew his schedule for today was nauseatingly full.

"What's tomorrow, Thursday?" he mused. "I have a pretty busy day, actually. How about Friday?"

"Friday's good. Well, anytime before noon. I have to work the afternoon shift."

"Oh, where do you work?"

"The University Book Store, in the U District. It's book rush so I can make a lot of money this week and next. That's why I came back to school a week early," she explained.

"That's great," he said, sounding oddly enthusiastic. "So what do you do there, exactly?"

"I'm a cashier-slash-weight-lifter. Running the cash register is easy, but bagging the books can be a real bitch. On the upside, though, I should have slammin' biceps by the time book rush dies down."

Edward laughed again, and she wondered if that's why she kept saying silly things, just so she could hear it.

"Well, that _is_ the first thing I look for in a girl - slammin' biceps."

She knew he was teasing, but his voice reeked of innuendo regardless. His tone was clear when he continued, "But the real question is, how are your glutes?"

She could feel heat creep up her neck. She walked over to her electric fan and flipped the switch.

"I live on the third floor of my dorm, so my glutes get a good workout going up and down the stairs every day. Keeps 'em nice and tight," she said. Damn, it was a lot easier to flirt with his disembodied voice, delicious as it was, than with his entire irresistible self.

"So I noticed," he murmured, the innuendo unmistakable this time.

She pointed the electric fan at her bed and sat directly in its path, letting the cool air hit her blazing face.

Edward cleared his throat. "So, what time shall I meet you Friday morning?"

"Whenever is good for you," she answered. She grabbed his day planner and flipped to the upcoming date, wondering how many sorority-named girls she'd find there who would be occupying his time.

"Well, since you're apparently comatose before ten a.m., why don't we make it then?"

She wondered if he enjoyed teasing her as much as she liked being teased.

"Ten is good," she agreed. The little black notebook told her Edward had the day free until a six o'clock class reunion at the Hilton with someone named Sylvia. She snickered to herself. What kind of woman paid a guy to take her to her class reunion?

Then again, what kind of girl paid a guy to take her virginity?

"I'll see you in forty-eight hours, then," he said. Shit, he was counting? That had to be a good thing, right?

"Yeah. See you Friday," she replied, wondering if he could hear the smile in her voice.

She barely registered Edward's "'Bye, Bella," as alluring as her name sounded when he spoke it. She was too distracted by Thursday's page in his appointment book - the day he was ostensibly too busy to meet with her. She'd expected to see another full itinerary for tomorrow, complete with the requisite names, times and places.

Instead, there was only one thing written at the top of the page - a single, solitary name etched in Edward's elegant script.

Curious, she flipped through the rest of the pages, noting that the schedule for his "engagements" petered out as the weeks advanced.

But every single Thursday for the rest of the year, Edward's day belonged only to "Emily."

* * *

><p><strong>Well, it finally happened - I wasn't able to answer every review this time around. :( I'm still trying, but I'm way behind. On the upside, I did finish another "Agreement" chapter over the weekend instead, and I'm guessing you'd probably rather have that anyway. ;) But if I missed writing you in person, please accept my thanks now for your lovely reviews. You're amazing! You all keep me going. :)<strong>

**Special thanks to The Lemonade Stand for adding my baby fic to The Nursery this week! So cute! I'm very honored to be swaddled there amongst all the other fine new stories. And to anyone who's been pimpin' on Twitter and Facebook, many thanks for spreading the love! All my love to you right back. xoxo**

**My gratitude also goes to RobMusement blog and Dreamin' of J-Bone blog for their recs of my one-shot, "The Guitar," this past week. And thanks to all of you who checked it out! Glad you enjoyed my little tale of angst-free romance. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A little insight into Edward, through a different pair of eyes. . .**

* * *

><p>Charlotte Rhinehart wore the same tiny smile of anticipation every Wednesday morning. And occasionally on other mornings, too, if she was lucky.<p>

The smile toyed with the corners of her lips as soon as she awoke, and grew exponentially as the clock marched toward noon. She used to feel silly about its presence. She feared it twisted her elegantly lined face into a pathetic caricature of its former self, making a mockery of her girlish ardor for the young man who put it there. After all, she had to admit that if she were forty years younger, she would be very much in love with him.

But she wasn't younger. She was what was politely called "a mature woman." As such, she endeavored to carry herself with the full grace and wisdom of her sixty-plus years, fancying herself a grande dame in the ilk of Helen Mirren. And grande dames did not fawn over men young enough to be their grandsons.

Still, she couldn't see the harm in indulging this particular young man as if he were. She'd had no children of her own, and after her husband had passed a couple of years ago, she found she missed the male companionship. The gardener was far better at conversing with the flowers and the trees than with her, and the chauffeur split his time between a multitude of wealthy widows in the area. She was lonely. She'd even begun to consider moving back to England, despite her promise to keep Peter's estate intact after his death.

She had perused the internet profiles of Renaissance Escorts during a particularly low patch, the day after a self-pitying crying jag over a bottle of her late husband's favorite cognac. She'd scoffed at herself for even entertaining the preposterous idea of calling any of these boys, while giggling at their self-consciously rakish poses. Each handsome face looked more vacant and overconfident than the last, bringing tears of much-needed laughter to her eyes.

But suddenly, there _he_ was, a flower amongst the brambles. Edward Cullen, the profile said. She was entranced by the exquisite landscape of his face: all peaches and cream skin, sandy hair and ivory smile; grass and sky blending seamlessly in his wide-set eyes. She could see that he teetered on the precipice between boy and man - an irresistible combination of almost feminine beauty and rugged masculinity. At twenty-two, he would not linger there much longer. He reminded her a bit of her husband, when he was but a boy himself. And Edward's profile claimed that he even played the piano, too. She was sold.

That was almost two years ago. She had been one of his first clients, and it showed. His innate charm was almost wholly swallowed in flat-out fear the first time he showed up at the estate to see her. She was taken immediately with the combination of his easy smile and uneasy eyes, and she vowed to make his gaze match his grin by the time their afternoon was through.

The effort required was minimal. As soon as he saw Peter's Steinway baby grand in the conservatory, his nervousness was replaced by sheer excitement. He was dying to try it out, and would she mind if he tickled the ivories for a bit?

"Tickle away," she had urged him.

An hour and several Beethoven movements later, they were both in love: he, with the piano; she, with his talent. She bade him come entertain her whenever he wished, and his eyes lit up with gratitude. Thus began a steady stream of Wednesday afternoons together. Edward had rarely missed one in twenty months now. Not that she was counting, of course.

Nor would she admit that she was counting the minutes now until his arrival. He had called this morning, as he often did, to see if she would mind if he showed up early. The call was a mere formality, for he knew she would always welcome him. Even when he was in one of his contemplative - or downright melancholy - moods, she relished in his company. Sometimes they barely spoke, but the silence was always a comfortable one. She sensed her quiet estate was his haven from the trials of the outside world. The piano was his outlet, and she could always judge his mood by the music he chose. Edward didn't speak his emotions; he played them. They flowed from his fingers like springs from a well, and she never tired of letting them wash over her and carry her away.

Today his mood was decidedly chipper, if his voice over the phone was any indication. In fact, she wasn't sure she'd ever heard him sound so carefree. He almost sounded twenty-four years old instead of jaded and prematurely middle-aged. She was curious to find out what had buoyed his spirits on this balmy summer morning, though she didn't hold much hope of dragging any details from him. After two years, she still hadn't gotten him to confess where he'd received his classical music training, though she suspected only a prestigious school such as Juilliard could have honed such a gift. And it had taken her nearly as long to discover what had derailed such a promising career. He'd obviously needed quick cash, and a lot of it, so she had surmised that some kind of family emergency was to blame. He had only recently alluded to the circumstances that confirmed her suspicions. She presumed that her offer of an out-and-out loan would be met with indignant refusal, so she happily paid for his company on a regular basis, hoping that her generous tips and free brunches would help alleviate his financial difficulties.

If nothing else, she knew that the Steinway brought him momentary peace. She was content to listen appreciatively while his fingers flew over the keys with a skill and dexterity her late husband had only dreamed of. Some days he played for hours; others, only twenty or thirty minutes before coming to join her in a game of some kind. She always left the chess board open for their ongoing match. She was currently beating him, but she knew she would end up letting him win. He needed the victory far more than she did.

A quick glance at the clock told her that he should be here momentarily. She carefully picked up the chess board from the living room and brought it out to the veranda, placing it at one end of the outdoor dining table. She made sure the other end was filled with Edward's favorites: French pastries, her quiche-like egg casserole, bacon, fresh fruit and juice. She was fiddling with the silverware, placing it just so, when a familiar male voice from behind her echoed her current thoughts.

"Charlotte, you spoil me rotten," Edward admonished with a cheerful grin as he stepped onto the veranda. His sunglass-covered gaze swept over the breakfast spread before settling on her face. He put his arm around her shoulder in a brief embrace, leaning down to graze her upturned cheek with his lips.

She hid the foolish thrill that raced through her with practiced ennui. "I do spoil you, something dreadful. But you haven't quite reached 'rotten' yet. I'll cut you off before you do."

"I know you will," he said with a laugh. "You look ravishing, by the way." He pulled out a chair for her, bidding her to take a seat.

"How you do flatter me," she replied, adding a modest "tut" and shake of her head as she sat down. She had chosen her favorite sundress and styled her sleek bob with a little more care today, as was her habit every Wednesday.

"It's not flattery when it's the truth," he insisted. He perused the silver warming trays with relish as he took a seat across from her. "This looks great."

He filled his plate with generous helpings while Charlotte beamed in spite of herself. Then she set about studying him, for it was impossible not to when he sat a mere three feet away. There was something decidedly different in his air today. The appearance of his impish smirk - always her undoing - was now irrepressible, even while he chewed and swallowed, then remarked once more that her casserole was out of this world. She knew better than to imagine her cooking was the cause of Edward's ebullience.

"You're in good spirits today," she remarked. She lifted an expectant eyebrow at him.

"It's a beautiful day," he said, his grin broadening. "The sky is blue, the birds are singing . . ." he trailed off as he gulped some orange juice.

"Singing birds, eh?" Charlotte eyed him suspiciously. "Take off your sunglasses. I want to see your eyes."

Edward only laughed as he removed the designer frames and tossed them onto the table. "I'm not on drugs, I swear. Just caffeine. And it _is_ a nice day." He squinted up into the drowsy sunlight as if to prove it.

"Hmm. That it is." She looked into her favorite twin orbs, reflecting the blue and green landscape around them, and saw the very twinkle that she expected to see.

Edward Cullen had fallen in love.

She'd known it would only be a matter of time. She imagined that most women who fell into his orbit also fell in love with him, to some degree. But thus far, he had remained largely unmoved by their attentions.

Until now.

"Caffeine doesn't cause that kind of sparkle in a young man's eyes," she informed him. She leaned over and picked up the teapot, filling her fine china demitasse cup. "I daresay it's a drug of a very different nature."

Edward's eyes narrowed. "I can't pretend to know what you're talking about."

"Can't you?" she said with a laugh. She decided to go for the jugular, since he was so deft at evasion anyway. "So who is the lucky young lady who's caught your fancy?"

He started, his eyes widening and mouth dropping open before he quickly rearranged his features into a mask of indifference.

"I really have no idea what you're talking about, Charlotte. I'm just happy to see you, like always." His smile was as smooth as his voice.

She burst into peels of laughter. "Oh, Edward. Don't try to pull one over on me, dear boy. I'm not one of your daft young cows that you can dazzle with those pretty platitudes of yours."

She could see that he was having trouble figuring out how to deflect this one, but bless him, he did try. "'Daft young cows?' I love how you talk," he said, in reference to her British slang. "I never get tired of it."

"Nor do you tire of avoiding the issue," she replied pointedly.

Edward sighed, his expression souring slightly. His countenance was that of a child who'd finally been chastised for an offense he'd repeatedly gotten away with.

"She's just a girl," he finally said with a shrug, though he couldn't pull off nonchalance. His cheeks colored slightly and he turned his attention to his plate, attacking his meal with renewed vigor. He was smitten, all right, and the proof lay in the relentless smirk that dimpled the corners of his mouth despite his attempts to banish it. The dimples reminded her of his true age - still a boy, in some ways. And now he was a boy in love, though she was fairly sure that he was not yet cognizant of that fact.

"Just a girl," she repeated in a tone that called his bluff. "And how did you meet this inconsequential girl, who has nothing at all to do with your incessant grinning like the Sphinx?"

He squinted up at her, scowling good-naturedly at her perception. He put down his silverware and sat back in his chair, giving her a look of resignation. "She hired me."

"Ah." That was a surprise. He'd rarely expressed more than a passing interest in the women who pursued him, especially the ones who paid him for the privilege. "So she's fully aware of your vocation. That's a major hurdle you've already cleared, then."

He blanched slightly and reached for his coffee cup. "I wouldn't say that. I don't think she's quite grasped the reality of the situation. Or maybe I haven't," he added morosely.

Charlotte was now sorry she had pursued this line of questioning. She'd managed to erase the grin that had engulfed his lips until now.

"Perhaps she's more tolerant and understanding than you know," she offered, trying to bring the grin back. "If her eyes have a twinkle anything like yours do right now, then I believe you have more than a fighting chance at making something work with her. Assuming that's what you want," she added.

In truth, she couldn't imagine any girl being able to put up with Edward's line of work. He had probably been blithely ignoring that likelihood until she'd brought it out into the daylight.

His face clouded further. "I can't afford to want. Anything," he mumbled into his coffee cup, taking a prolonged sip.

Charlotte frowned and partook of her own teacup. "You can't afford _not_ to want things. The minute you stop wanting is the minute you stop living."

Edward's brief laugh was wry. "Wanting things you can't have is a sure way of setting yourself up for disappointment. It's better to try to find satisfaction with what you have, isn't it?"

"Oh, Edward," she sighed, disappointed herself. "It most certainly isn't better to be complacent. At the risk of sounding trite, it's far better to try at something and fail, than to shrink from the attempt. Regret for the things you've done is much easier to deal with than regret for the things you haven't. You can trust this old woman to know whereof she speaks."

His grin was sincere. "You're not old. You have one of the most youthful spirits I know."

"And you have the spirit of a crotchety old bugger right now," she retorted with her own affable grin. "Stop being so maudlin. You seemed quite excited about this girl when you first arrived, so you must have good reason to be hopeful. It's nice to see you invested in someone for a change. I think you should do whatever it takes to nurture the connection you have with this young lady. What did you say her name was?"

"I didn't. But it's Bella. Short for Isabella."

The rapt expression on his face as he spoke the girl's name was all Charlotte needed to see.

"Well. I think this Bella is a very lucky girl to have captured your attention so thoroughly. Those kinds of feelings shouldn't be wasted."

Worry pulled at Edward's features. "But I have nothing to offer her right now," he said softly. "You know I can't be a proper boyfriend. It's impossible for me to get involved with anyone. It would be unfair to let her think otherwise."

"Why don't you let her decide what's fair and what's not?" Charlotte suggested. "You can't make those kinds of decisions for her. But you might have a few of your own to make, should you decide to pursue her."

He let out a resigned sigh and pushed his plate away. "There's no point. I can't walk away from Renaissance yet. Maybe, _possibly_ I can in a couple of years, when the house is paid off. But right now, this is the only way."

Charlotte took a deep breath and decided to finally offer what she'd always wanted to.

"Let me take care of the mortgage, Edward. Let me pay off the bank for you; at least get one burden off of your back."

Edward flinched as though she had struck him. "I won't be your charity case," he refused through gritted teeth.

"It's not charity. Consider it a loan, with the best terms possible: zero percent interest and no deadline for repayment," she amended.

"I can't let you do that. You've given me too much already."

"Rubbish," she retorted. "I owe you far more than I could ever pay for your company and the endless hours of musical entertainment you've given me. Let me do this for you. Please," she entreated.

He shook his head sadly; maddeningly, from her standpoint. "I appreciate the offer, but frankly, the house is just the tip of the iceberg. I have to take care of my family - I'm the only one who can. And I'm doing a decent job of it, at the moment. I'm making good money. And I certainly wouldn't get the kind of car and wardrobe allowance from any other job like I do this one," he added with a sardonic chuckle.

Charlotte's eyes flitted heavenward. They both knew that while he didn't mind those kinds of perks, they were immaterial to him in light of his other concerns.

"Well, my offer stands, should you ever wish to accept it. I'd pay off all of your bills if you weren't so bloody proud and stubborn. Maybe this young Bella of yours will change your mind on a few scores," she added with the quirk of one brow.

The tiny smile returned. "Maybe," he said, his cheeks coloring slightly again. "But I don't think even you have that kind of money, Charlotte. Unless you mortgage your own estate up to your keister."

"I suppose I would risk my dear departed husband coming back from the grave to haunt me if I ever did such a thing," she said, making an attempt at levity for Edward's sake. She sighed to herself and wondered just how much medical and housing bills were setting him back, not to mention Alice's tuition. Though Edward's shoulders were broad, his burdens were especially heavy for such a young man to bear.

"How is Emily doing these days?" she inquired gently.

His smile grew thin. "Well, she knew who I was last week, so that was an improvement. Guess we'll see what tomorrow brings." His reply was terse, and Charlotte knew that this subject was now closed.

She motioned to Edward's clean plate and suggested that if he was finished, they should resume their chess game. He readily agreed, and they moved to the other end of the table where the game board sat. They studied their pieces for a moment, each strategizing what their next few moves might be.

"Is it your turn or mine?" he asked courteously.

"You know damned well it's yours," she replied with a chuckle. "I believe you're still trying to figure out how to get your knight out of the impossible predicament he's in."

"Ah, that's right. I remember," he said with a grin, staring at the game piece in question. "Damn your queen, always making things so impossible for my knight," he complained as he weighed his options for a long moment. "I really do love this chess set. Have I told you that before?" he stalled.

"You have, indeed, several times. I shall be sure to leave it to you in my will." The chess set had been Peter's. The game pieces were not the usual symbols, but instead were beautifully crafted, lifelike miniatures of actual human pawns, bishops and royalty.

Edward tentatively fingered the scarlet-colored knight seated upon its rearing stallion, then finally made it retreat to a position of safety behind the few pawns he had left. He knew that his choice left Charlotte an opening to endanger his rook, but it was the lesser of two evils, as his other move would expose his own queen and king.

"So tell me about this Bella of yours," she encouraged as she perused the game board.

"Well, she's not mine, for starters."

"Yet."

He let out a skeptical laugh. "I don't know. She's just . . . different. She seems quiet, but then she'll blurt out these things that completely stun me. She's honest to a fault. Beautiful, but doesn't know it. Naïve, yet wise. Headstrong, then hesitant all of a sudden. Smart. Foolish." He stopped and shook his head. "She's brave. Really brave."

_Oh, my dear boy. You have it bad. _Charlotte kept those thoughts to herself and simply said, "She sounds lovely. You deserve someone lovely, whether you know it or not."

Edward only shrugged, while Charlotte turned her attention back to the game. After considering the obvious choice of sending her bishop after his rook, she instead made a seemingly benign move to beef up her front line on the board, then sat back and waited for Edward to respond.

He gave her a suspicious stare. "What kind of half-assed move was that?" he demanded.

"One that wasn't half-arsed at all. I choose my attacks carefully, as you know. The aggressive move isn't always the wisest."

His eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare throw this game for me."

She only smiled softly. "Fine. I won't - as long as you take your own advice."

His eyebrows knitted; he appeared a bit unsure of her meaning.

"Play to win, Edward," she said simply.

His grin returned, and it was grateful this time. He nodded, then went back to studying the chess board, his face a picture of confident determination.

* * *

><p><strong>I've loved reading everyone's theories on Emily. I wonder if they've changed now?<strong>

**Sorry my review replies took longer, as did this update. NGL, it's all Rob's fault. TWO new movies announced (!); additional Breaking Dawn shoots; and Bel Ami finally available in the USA. To say I've been a bit distracted is an understatement. ;)**

**More thanks are in order this week! The lovely Cared wrote the most beautiful review and fic rec of The Agreement on Midnight Cougar's "Rob Attack" blog-I'm still verklempt over it! :') And then RITA01TX made the most luscious Barcelona Rob pic-spam post to the poem "The Lover" that was featured in The Agreement Chapter 5. Very drool-worthy! Definitely check out both of these posts on "Rob Attack" when you have a minute. :)**

**Big thanks also go out to Songster and all the fine ladies at "The Fictionators" site for recommending The Agreement in their Fictionators Friday post! I was very surprised and honored to be included in your weekly fic recs! :)**

**Special thanks also go to Joni for her rec of The Agreement on the Fold Your Wings thread over at Twilighted! And if you've rec'd my story on Facebook, please let me know so I can thank you properly. :)**

**And most of all, thanks to all of you who took time out of your day to read my words, to alert or favorite my story, and to leave such great comments. I'm grateful for each and every one. xoxoxo**


	17. Chapter 17

Thursday's eight-hour shift at University Book Store prompted Bella to come to the conclusion that she vastly preferred running the cash register to bagging textbooks.

At least operating the register required some conscious thought and attention, even though the scanner did most of the work. But bagging textbooks was a mindless task, asking nothing more of her than a little physical labor and perhaps a sympathetic smile at the shell-shocked customers who had just coughed up enough cash for a down payment on a car.

Bagging books left her too much time to think.

So as soon as her register partner grew weary of the heavy lifting and wanted to switch places, Bella braced herself for the onslaught of thoughts sure to invade her brain, chief among them:

_Who is Emily?_

This was the question first and foremost in her mind. The one that nagged; the one that would not be silenced. Her first assumptions were ones she could live with. "Sister" was a good answer. She liked that one. "Mom" or "aunt" were both good, too. "Sweet little old granny" was even better. But the more she wondered, the crazier her guesses got. The trickier possibilities stabbed like darts when they attacked: _Girlfriend. Daughter._

_Wife._

She shuddered once more at her worst fear. She could maybe handle the idea of Edward as a father, even if she herself was nowhere near ready for motherhood. But the thought of him going home at night to a lover or wife. . . No, she couldn't go there.

What woman could? Bella consoled herself with the knowledge that very few girls would be capable of having a serious relationship with a man who sold himself to other women for money. But that was cold comfort when it led her to the next logical question: Could _she_ do it?

No matter how much she liked him, no matter how amazing he made her feel when she was with him, could she actually accept his profession? She was afraid she already knew the answer. The black hole that had swallowed her insides when she read all those names in his appointment book made it quite clear where she, herself, stood on the matter.

So it was with an air of hopeless resignation that she showed up this morning at the women's free clinic for a her first gynecological exam.

She had made the appointment two days ago, when she awoke to find that she still felt a bit sore between her legs. That couldn't be normal, could it? She had panicked slightly and thought she should get it checked out, even though Edward had used a condom. What about those brief moments that he hadn't? Could she have caught something from him? No matter how careful he was with the others, how could she be sure?

So she'd decided to get examined and tested - it was the smart thing to do. But it hadn't make the experience any easier, since this was her first time. She was grateful the doctor was female, so that her humiliation at assuming the spread-eagle position in the stirrups was lessened as much as possible. However, her humiliation at her prognosis was a little harder to take.

The doctor, of course, didn't see it that way. She was practically chipper when, after her initial gloved inspection, she explained that she would need to use a special, smaller apparatus to perform Bella's pap test. The gynecologist's words echoed in her head now, while she jammed more behemoth textbooks into UBS-monogrammed plastic bags.

"Well, it is evident that you only recently lost your virginity. Your vaginal opening is still fairly narrow. I'll use a different speculum on you so as to minimize your discomfort, okay?"

The physician left the exam room briefly, while Bella stared at the clear, Lucite vaginal spreader and jumbo tube of lubricant on the counter next to the exam table. The word "speculum" made a small shudder run through her body. When the doctor returned, she waved a long, slender, silver contraption briefly at Bella before grabbing the jumbo lube and disappearing behind the paper sheet covering Bella's privates.

"Now, try to relax so that I can insert the speculum comfortably. You shouldn't feel any pain, just a small pinch when I take the sample. I'll make this as quick as possible."

Bella folded her hands tightly together, squeezed her eyes shut and heard the echo of Edward's soothing voice in her ear. _Relax . . . You know I won't hurt you, don't you?_

"There, that's excellent!" the doctor encouraged. "I'm almost done. You're doing great, Bella."

_Great. _She still couldn't help but cringe. She just wanted it to be over. And she wanted the doctor to tell her she was normal, not that her vagina was too small for her to ever have great sex, which was the horrible idea now expanding like a balloon in her brain.

After another brief bout of poking and prodding, the gynecologist announced that she was done, but that she'd be back in a few minutes to discuss the exam. Bella breathed a sigh of relief as the doctor exited the room. She cleaned herself up with some tissues, got dressed, and then waited in the faux leather patient chair for the physician to return.

Doctor Roberts was her name, though she had encouraged Bella to call her "Lindsay." She was blonde and pert and made Bella feel vaguely uncomfortable, even though she was clearly aiming for warm and friendly. Maybe the problem was that Lindsay looked like the type of woman who'd never had any trouble having great sex, and would go home to enjoy some tonight with her no-doubt handsome, virile husband.

Doctor Roberts knocked softly before re-entering the room and sitting on a stool at the foot of the exam table. She smiled down at her patient, then proceeded to tell her that everything looked fine, and they would have the results of her lab work in a few days.

"Do you have any questions?" she added, sounding the most sincere she had since Bella had walked through the door.

"Um, well, yeah," Bella replied, taking a deep breath. "I guess I'm wondering why it took three days for me to stop feeling sore after my first time. And why you had to go get a special . . . instrument to use on me." She bit her lip and looked worriedly up at the doctor. "Is there something wrong with me?"

"No! Not at all," the blonde assured her emphatically. "You're perfectly normal, Bella. You have no tipping of the uterus or any other physical issues that will prevent you from enjoying normal sexual activity. As I said, your vaginal opening is rather narrow, but that doesn't mean it will remain that way. Vaginas come in slightly varying shapes and sizes, but they all have one thing in common: they're made to accommodate a penis entering them, and a baby exiting them. During arousal, the vagina expands and lengthens in preparation for intercourse, so sex shouldn't be painful if you and your partner take the time for sufficient foreplay.

"That said, some girls are lucky to have a relatively easy time adjusting to sex, while others require a little more time before their bodies get used to it," she went on. "There's no reason to believe that, after a bit more experience, you won't enjoy a fully satisfying sex life."

"So . . . you're telling me that basically, I just need to have more sex and everything will be fine?" Bella asked hesitantly.

"Only if that's what you want, and you're ready for it," Doctor Roberts said, scooting the rolling stool closer to Bella's chair. "A boyfriend who cares about you will be patient with you while you adjust to having intercourse with him. If he's not, I think you have to ask yourself if he's the right one for you."

Bella nodded and her eyes fell. "So there's no other way to, sort of, get myself ready for sex again? It just has to hurt until it doesn't hurt anymore?"

The doctor smiled sympathetically. "Well, there is something you can do on your own. I might be able help you. I'll be right back."

After she left the room, Bella wondered with renewed dread what weird devices Lindsay might bring back with her. Would a free clinic distribute sex toys for women to practice with?

She soon had her answer. Doctor Roberts returned carrying a discreet, pale-pink plastic bag. She settled on the stool again and withdrew the bag's contents, showing them to Bella. In her hand, she held four clear plastic cylindrical tubes, rounded at one end, and graduating in girth and length from tampon-sized to penis-sized.

"These syringes are pretty much exactly what they look like," the doctor said with a small smile. "Practicing with these can help you gradually accommodate a larger penetration into your vagina. Begin with the smallest one until it feels comfortable upon insertion, then move up to the next size, and so on. Experimenting with these may help you enjoy your next sexual experience a little more. Just be sure you use plenty of personal lubricant with them, which I've also included," she added, dropping the plastic tubes into the bag and handing it to her patient.

Bella peered into the bag to see her very own jumbo tube of lube, buried under the strange assortment of medically-issued dildos. She didn't know what to say. Was she really supposed to masturbate with these things? Would they help? She felt her face redden. Why was sex turning out to be so complicated? Why couldn't it just be hot and romantic, like in books and movies?

"Oh, and while I'm on the subject of lubricant: the lack of it may be the reason your genitals were raw for a couple of days after your first time," Doctor Roberts continued in her bizarre, bubbly tone. "Like I said before, make sure you and your boyfriend take the time for foreplay, since sexual arousal is required for you to produce sufficient vaginal fluid for intercourse to be comfortable.

"Also, many girls find the latex in condoms to be rather chafing at first, and the friction from intercourse can dry out your own vaginal moisture. That's why some varieties of condoms contain lubricant. Make sure you use plenty of it the next time you have intercourse using a condom. And I don't need to remind you of the importance of your partner wearing one every single time, do I?"

Bella shook her head. "No, I'm fully aware of all the possible consequences," she replied dully. A litany of STDs she could contract flitted through her head, not to mention the specter of unwanted pregnancy. She thanked Doctor Roberts, then shoved the pink plastic baggie full of her own sexual inadequacy into her backpack.

By the time she'd left the clinic and climbed in her truck to come to work, she no longer wondered why it had taken her so long to have sex. Instead, she wondered what it would take for her to ever want to have it again. The whole ordeal seemed like more trouble than it was worth, especially if Edward wasn't going to be the one patiently waiting until her vagina started acting like an adult.

Or would he? She was afraid to even entertain the thought, but he _had_ arranged to see her tomorrow, after all. He'd even sounded excited about it. And she had been, too, until this morning's wet blanket had been thrown over her feelings about sex and, by extension, the male species in general.

But Edward was different. She already knew he was the one who could change her mind about everything on a dime. Who else would have her questioning whether or not she could seriously date a gigolo? She figured that the minute she saw him tomorrow, her joints would turn to jell-o and she'd completely forget about his occupation, or the notion of giving up on sex. How could she, after the amazing things he'd done to her?

She shivered now at the memories, and a tiny throb began to pulse between her legs. She blushed a little and tried to clear her head while she stuffed more book bags, smiling absently at her fellow students and their parents as they left the store. Now was not the time or place to think about that long, pink tongue swirling up and down her sex before plunging into her too-tight orifice. Nor was it appropriate to remember how his nimble fingers had managed to work their way deep inside her anyway, making her come all over them like she'd never come before, her entire body quivering uncontrollably as if his hand were an electrical plug drawing voltage from an outlet.

"Bella? Bella Swan! Look at you! You look great," a loud exclamation interrupted her sensual reverie. Her face flooded with heat as her eyes shot up to see the next person in line at her register. She soon let out a laugh of embarrassed relief when she realized who it was.

"Hey, Mike!" She greeted her former boyfriend with a weak smile. "What are you doing here?"

He leaned in to give her a brief but warm hug before answering. "I transferred from community college this year, remember? I'm sure my mom never shut up about it all summer," he added a bit apologetically. "I missed working at the store with you. Hope she didn't drive you crazy."

"No, not at all. Your mom's great. Both your parents are," she told him. She'd worked for them at Newton's Sporting Goods the past three summers. Ironically, those earnings were the reason she'd been able to hire Edward Cullen to accomplish what Mike Newton had not. "We missed you, too, but I have to admit I liked getting all your hours. I made some great money."

Mike let out a good-natured laugh. "I'll bet you did."

She looked up into his bright blue eyes and realized it was actually nice to see a familiar face here in Seattle. "So how was the forestry internship in Alaska? Your mom read me some of your texts and emails - sounds like it was pretty cool."

"It was awesome. I loved it. I learned more on the job there than I ever could in school," he enthused. "But it inspired me to want to get my degree in horticulture and forestry management. So, here I am," he said with a lofty wave at the bookstore, "in the hallowed halls of U-Dub."

Bella laughed as she began shoving his recently purchased biochem and other required texts into UBS bags. "Well, I don't know how hallowed the bookstore is, but it's good to see you. I think you'll like it here. It's fun - there's a lot to do." She listened to herself and wondered when she'd become a U-Dub recruiter.

"The parties are legendary," he said with a grin. "I'm sorry I missed that big bash down by La Push a couple weeks back, though," he added. "I heard that one raged all night. I'm surprised your dad and his cronies didn't come shut it down."

Bella winced at the memory. "Out of my dad's jurisdiction," she said with a dismissive shrug. "You didn't miss much. The usual drink 'til you drop fiesta."

In fact, she was glad he wasn't there. The last thing she needed was Mike joining Jake in singing the "Bella-won't-put-out" blues. But as she looked up at her high school ex now, she had the feeling that he wouldn't have done that. His summer in the mountains had changed him somehow. He was tanned, his sun-streaked blond hair was cropped close, his shoulders were broader. He didn't quite seem like the goofy, wise-cracking kid she'd left behind last year when they went to different schools. He'd grown up.

And so had she, she hoped.

"Here, let me help you," Mike offered, picking up his own textbooks while she held the bag open for him.

"Thanks," she said, glad for the brief reprieve.

"Your arms must get a workout in this place."

"Yeah, this time of year, they do. That's why we switch off," she said, nodding to her partner, who was already ringing up the next customer.

"So are you living in the dorms, or an apartment?" he asked as he lifted his bags off the counter.

"The dorms still. I lucked into a single, if you can believe that. But I wouldn't be surprised if they foist a roommate on me at some point."

"A single? No way. I'm in McCarty, with a couple of guys who seem all right so far. I'm bracing myself for snoring and partying and God knows what all kinds of fuckery keeping me awake at night, though," he said with a rueful chuckle.

"McCarty's a decent dorm," Bella assured him. "Easy access to the parties on Greek Row." She knew that would be a plus for him. "I'm in McMahon, so I'm right off the quad, too."

"Really? Cool. We'll have to meet up and go get a burger or something. You can give me a tour of the campus," Mike suggested eagerly.

A bit too eagerly, she thought. But she smiled and said, "Sure, I'd be happy to."

He tried to wave by hefting one heavy bag in the air, then gave up and said, "See you, Bella," before turning and leaving the store.

She returned to the monotony of her job, her mind now a jumble of thoughts about her past, present and future. She wasn't sure how she felt about her failed first attempt at a relationship showing up in her life again. They had parted amicably, but she'd still been relieved to find she wouldn't have to work with him this past summer. It was easier to just avoid that sort of awkwardness altogether. But now, here he was again, a flesh-and-blood reminder of her teenaged inadequacies.

_But I'm past that now, _she reminded herself. One night with Edward Cullen had already made her feel like she'd moved light years beyond the clumsy, clueless girl who'd repeatedly spurned Mike Newton's tentative advances in the back seat of his dad's Honda. And it wasn't just about sex. Being with Edward made her feel like a grown-up - a woman - in ways she'd never expected.

But was she woman enough to handle who he really was? No, not _who_ he was - she saw through the chinks in his armor easily enough - but _what_ he was. What he did, and why he did it, was another story entirely. A story whose plot she wasn't sure she could follow as long as he continued in his line of work, with the Laurens and Charlottes and Lindsays of the world.

And Emily.

She had to get to the bottom of Emily. As daunting as it would be to probe into Edward's life, especially considering what his probable reaction would be, it was something she had to do. She needed some answers.

And tomorrow, Edward Cullen had better start talking.

* * *

><p><strong>If I had to come up with a title for this chapter, it probably would have been "Reality Bites." Or perhaps just "TMI." Either way, Bella's certainly going to be in an interesting frame of mind when she goes to see Edward tomorrow morning. (And rest assured, these two WILL be face to face in the next chapter! I know the time apart is torture, but it's only been a few days in E&amp;B time.)<strong>

**Speaking of reality biting, a bit of bad news: this is the last chapter I have completed. The good news is that I have a nice start on the next one, so I should finish it next week. I won't be able to post twice a week anymore, but I'm aiming for once a week from now on, or every other week at the very least. Hopefully Reality won't bite too hard and I'll be able to keep up a fairly regular posting schedule.**

**Thank you again for all the great feedback and support, everyone! It truly means the world to me. Happy Mother's Day to all of you, even if you aren't Moms. It's a great day to celebrate all women and what they bring to the world. :)**


	18. Chapter 18

Edward arrived at Mott's Coffee Shop on Friday morning at 9:37 a.m. He scanned the room briefly on the off chance that Bella was actually early, then headed straight for his regular booth and ordered the usual.

More accurately, Lydia, the waitress, brought him his cup of straight Columbian and pot of creamer before he ever asked for them. As always, she inquired if he wanted to order breakfast, because she was never sure what the answer would be.

"Not yet. I'm waiting for someone. But you can bring us menus when she arrives," he said this time.

Lydia didn't bother to mask her surprise. The handsome young man with the unruly bronze hair never met anyone here. In fact, she was quite sure he'd been alone every time she'd served him. She knew this because that fact had nearly encouraged her to work up the nerve to ask him something a little more personal than, "How would you like your eggs?" But apparently she had waited too long to make her move.

She smiled regretfully and told him, "Sure thing," before leaving him to stare out the window.

Edward liked the view from Mott's, because it was across the street from a small park. He could watch the children playing and remember when he was one of them, being pushed in the swing by Mom, or encouraged to plummet down the old curly-cue slide by Dad waiting at the bottom. He liked how it felt when they were there to catch him.

He doctored his coffee with a dollop of cream and sugar while he mused over why he'd had his recurring childhood dream last night. He hadn't had it in awhile. But early this morning, his subconscious found him sitting in Grandma's back yard again, poring over the clover patch in search of that elusive four-leafed specimen.

"_You'll find one if you look hard enough," he heard his mother say, her voice clear as a bell. His dream vision of Elizabeth Masen was just as clear, frozen eternally in youth, her honey hair and blue eyes rendering her a goddess in her young son's eyes. _

"_I've been looking forever," Edward heard himself complain in a pre-puberty whine. "I'll never find one."_

"_It only feels like forever," she replied. "You've only been searching for a few minutes. Remember the poem I taught you?"_

_Edward nodded and recited the last couple of lines: "'If you work, and you wait, you will find the place where the four-leaf clovers grow.'"_

"_That's right," his mother said, beaming. "You just have to have patience, and luck will find you."_

"_But what if Grandma's back yard isn't the right place? The poem says we have to find a nook, with gold and cherries and stuff."_

_His mother laughed at his childish misinterpretation of the verse, and it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. "You're taking the poem too literally, Edward. All it means is that luck is yours wherever you find faith, hope and love. And that is most definitely here in Grandma's back yard."_

_His mother then diligently searched alongside him, until she finally suggested, "Why don't you try looking over here?"_

_She pointed out a particular spot in the clover patch, and he eagerly pounced on it, nose to the ground. Years later he realized that she had already found a four-leafed version and was merely guiding him in the right direction. But at the age of six, he was filled with pride and excitement when, moments later, he found the magic clover all on his own._

"_Look, Mom! It's here! It was really here all along!" he exclaimed, carefully plucking it from the ground and holding it up in exultation. "It's a big one, too!"_

"_It sure is, honey!" His mother gasped right along with him. "Look how lucky you are!"_

"_We gotta go show dad," Edward announced, jumping up from the ground and sprinting toward the house, calling his father's name._

_But the house got further and further away the harder he ran toward it, disappearing in a gray haze. His feet began to feel like they were made of wet clay, sticking to the ground and creating a heavy muck that held him in place. He was soon stuck, with neither of his parents in sight, clutching the clover in frustration; and then he began to cry._

His eyes were wet with a child's tears when he awoke.

He hated having that dream. As wonderful as it was to feel his mother close to him, the image of her was so real that he felt the pain of losing her all over again when consciousness inevitably had its way with him.

He shook his head now, as if to clear the cobwebs of memories from his brain. There was no point in dwelling on the past, especially when the present had taken such an interesting turn. He was itching to see Bella again, even though he had no idea what would come of their reunion. If nothing else, he would have his planner - and the good-luck charm inside it - back in his possession.

He realized then why he'd had the dream, and let out a relieved sigh. He decided that it had been a truly bone-headed move on his part to leave his appointment book with Bella. Not just because of the memento he kept inside it, but because she had most likely looked through his schedule and been appalled at what she found there. Not only would she be accosted by the names of his numerous dates, but also his notes about each of them in the back. What the hell had he been thinking?

He hadn't been thinking at all, obviously. Or maybe he'd subconsciously done it on purpose to sabotage his chances with her. He was a fool if he thought she could ever look past his occupation and want him regardless, for who he really was. Or used to be. Maybe that guy didn't even exist anymore. Maybe all that was left was a soulless automaton who smiled and flattered and seduced, then conveniently forgot.

But he couldn't forget Bella. He didn't want to.

As he waited for her arrival, he idly wondered if Alice was on to him. He usually ate breakfast at home on Fridays, so his failure to make her favorite blueberry pancakes today brought a scowl of suspicion to her face.

"You don't really have a _breakfast_ date, do you?" she asked, her lip curling in that strange mixture of distaste, sympathy and guilt that the subject of his vocation always inspired.

"I'm meeting a friend," he'd replied noncommittally.

"You don't have any friends," she reminded him with a twinge of sadness. "Well, not since Emmett moved in with Rosalie, anyway."

He'd distanced himself from the handful of pals who were still in Seattle when he returned a couple of years ago. The fewer people he had to explain himself to, the better. He had no time to nurture friendships anyway, since most evenings and weekends found him working.

"You're right, I don't," he replied evenly. "But maybe it's time I changed that."

Alice's eyebrows raised in curiosity as he leaned down and gave her a peck on the cheek. "You should try to make your own pancakes for a change. How are you ever gonna land a husband with your cooking skills?" he teased.

"The Dark Ages are long gone, dear cousin," she reminded him with a sniff. "I have other ways of luring men than with my culinary skills."

"Or lack thereof."

"I have _Cullen_-ary skills instead," she crowed, putting emphasis on her last name with relish. "Get it?"

"I get it," Edward replied with a slight roll of his eyes. "Clever. But whatever skills you may have with the opposite sex, I really don't want to know about them."

Alice's grin smacked of faux innocence as she circled her index finger above her head in the shape of a halo. "I'm only eighteen. I have no idea what you're talking about. I have no skills. Only imagination."

"Good. Let's keep it that way for awhile longer, shall we?"

"I don't know why _you_ get to have all the fun," she grumbled.

"Alice." His voice was cutting, and she cringed. She knew better than to joke about his job. She raised guilty eyes to his in a silent apology. His forgiveness was implied as well. He could never be angry with her for long, and she knew it. Grudges against one another were a luxury neither of them could afford.

"Do you have to work tonight?" he asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, 'til closing. You want me to bring you any leftovers?"

"Only if they have that lasagna that I love," Edward replied with a grin, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter while Alice rummaged through the cupboard for dry cereal.

"I think Sophia makes extra on purpose just so I'll bring you some," Alice informed him, pulling out a box of raisin bran. "She's dying to go out with you, you know. But she says she can't _afford_ you."

Edward ignored her comment and checked his wallet to make sure he had some cash.

"You could go on a normal date for once," she continued. "Sophia's cute, and she seems willing to overlook your line of work."

"'Seems' being the operative word there," he scoffed, shoving his wallet in his back pocket.

"She would overlook it! She realizes this is just temporary. She knows like I do that you're going to be a great concert pianist one day," she asserted with utter confidence.

"Well, the two of you may be waiting for a very long time if you expect that to happen," Edward replied gruffly before changing the subject. "Don't forget to lock up when you leave. And make sure you don't leave the curling iron plugged in or the stove on," he finished with a warning look.

"Would I ever do such a thing?" she shot back. "We just got this kitchen rebuilt. I'm so paranoid now that I check all that stuff three times before I ever leave the house. I'm not Em, you know."

Edward's expression softened. "I know," he said, giving her face a gentle squeeze. He knew it was wise to once again move to a different topic. "Did you get your school books yet? Classes start Monday."

"I'm fully aware of that," Alice replied, her tone still annoyed. "I have three more days to get them. Have you been to any of the U-Book Stores right before the semester starts? They're a nightmare, every single one of them. I'll go Sunday, when I have the entire day to stand in the check-out line."

"Fine, wait until the last minute. Just don't come crying to me when you can't find any more used textbooks because they're sold out."

"Geez, Edward, lighten up." She turned her back to retrieve a bowl and spoon out of the brand new cherry cabinets. "I have plenty of money saved up for those kinds of expenses. I like new books anyway, so I can highlight them myself. Helps me memorize things."

"All right," he conceded. He headed for the back door, turning to Alice before leaving. "Be careful. I love you."

"I love you, too," she replied, smiling and flashing those big, sweet doe eyes at him.

They always made sure they said the words, every day. They knew too well that there was nothing worse than things left unsaid.

Edward sighed at his reflection in the diner window now, drained more of his coffee and glanced at his watch. Bella should be here any minute. A ripple of anticipation traversed his spine, and he felt himself smiling already. He wondered if Alice might somehow go through Bella's checkout line at the book store this weekend, even though there were dozens of temporary workers hired to handle the glut of book sales this time of year. The odds were slim. But he couldn't stop imagining the two of them meeting, maybe even hitting it off. He had the feeling they would. Alice would appreciate Bella's candor, and Bella would probably find his cousin's quirks amusing.

Maybe Alice would even be able to talk her into overlooking the contents of his day planner, like she evidently had her co-worker Sophia. If anyone could perform such a miracle, it would be his wily baby cousin.

Edward was watching a boy and girl building a castle together in the sandbox across the street when his view was disrupted by a mane of long, brown hair swinging past the window. He snapped to attention and that crazy thrill raced down his spine again. As he watched Bella's backside hurry down the sidewalk, he wondered how such a tiny girl could have such a big impact on him. He admired the blue-jean-covered sway of her hips as she neared the front door. He imagined placing his palms over each denim cheek and squeezing until she squealed in protest and pummeled him away. Or better yet, maybe she would just put her arms around him and return the favor.

His heart picked up its pace when his fantasy was replaced by the reality of her standing inside the entry, looking around. She appeared uncertain, maybe even a little scared. She looked like he felt inside. Her dark eyes circled the room, searching. He was surprised to see them sweep right past him to the other side of the diner.

_Doesn't she recognize me?_

_Oh, God. He's not here. He didn't show._

Bella's heart dropped to the pit of her stomach as she scanned the sea of ubiquitous Seattle plaid and chino that filled the café tables and booths. She looked at her watch to see if she was too late, or more unlikely, too early.

And then she heard that unmistakable sound - the sound velvet would make if it could talk.

"Bella - over here," Edward called, just loudly enough for her to hear.

Her head whipped to the left, toward that sweet sound. How had she missed him? When he stood and motioned to her, she understood why. His rumpled, clay-colored shirt, worn tee and equally faded black pants were so far removed from the designer suit he'd worn last weekend that she was literally taken aback. He was every bit as breathtaking as she remembered, but also down-to-earth, which she'd never expected. He looked utterly touchable now, in a maddening, finger-itching kind of way.

"Hey," she said sheepishly, making her way to the booth he occupied. He waited until she'd sidled into the seat across from him and shimmied out of her backpack before he sat down again. The impeccable manners were still in place, even if his appearance was anything but.

"You look great," he told her. Her attire was as understated as his; her face unadorned save for a slip of eyeliner and a thin coat of mascara. It reminded him of how she looked after their shower together. He then spent the next five minutes trying very hard not to picture her naked.

"So do you," she answered, her eyes roaming over his wrinkled shirt and chaotic hair. "You look different - I almost didn't recognize you at first."

Edward appeared a bit disconcerted at first, then broke into a grin as he caught her meaning. "Sorry, I don't usually suit up for breakfast."

"Of course not. I didn't expect. . ." she began awkwardly, then started over. "You just took me by surprise for a minute, that's all. I mean, you look like a guy I might run into on the quad or something." _Only much, much hotter._

"You mean, I look like a regular guy?" His tone was teasing. "There goes my mystique, shot to hell."

Bella let out a short laugh. "I like the real guy under there, remember?"

He remembered. He remembered all too well. He gave her a faint nod.

"I like you like this. You look good," she said. And then her cheeks colored and her eyes fell in that unnecessarily bashful way that made him want to kiss her.

She was grateful when the waitress appeared with menus a moment later, so she'd have a brief reprieve from Edward's beautiful eyes penetrating hers from across the white laminated tabletop. He was irresistible in a whole new, disheveled way that sent her heart thudding harder than his fancy suit ever could. It made her think that maybe, just maybe, this could really happen. That she could have something real, with the Real Edward - the one who frequented regular coffee shops with normal girls like her, not the fantasy version he pimped out to the highest bidder each night.

When she looked up from the menu that she was barely absorbing, he was still staring at her.

"Aren't you ordering?" she asked.

He nodded. "I already know what I want."

His words were laden with heavy innuendo to her desperate ears, when she was sure that the comment was innocuous.

"Do you come here a lot?"

He nodded again. "It's my favorite diner in the city. Great coffee, great omelets. Nothing fancy, just good food."

"Usually the simplest things in life are the best," she said. She looked over the omelet selection, and when the waitress returned, she ordered the one with the works. Edward chuckled at that, and she looked up at him curiously.

"So much for simplicity," he kidded. But then he smiled up at the waitress and said, "I'll have the same, Lydia, thank you."

Bella was startled at Edward's familiarity with the waitress until she noticed that the woman was wearing a nametag. Lydia's face darkened a shade, and Bella could see that it was an involuntary reaction to hearing her name spoken in the dulcet tones of Edward Cullen. The waitress was still blushing as she retrieved their menus and backed away, promising to return soon with their meals.

Bella shook her head and laughed a little, causing Edward to turned puzzled eyes to hers.

"What?" he demanded.

"You don't even know the power you have."

It was his turn to laugh. "What power is that?"

"Over women. I have the feeling you charm every one of them without even trying, and you don't even know you're doing it."

Edward's smirk was dismissive. "I'm pretty sure that's just a side effect of my occupation. Charm is an acquired skill, like anything else."

She shook her head emphatically this time. "No. You were born with it. It practically oozes out of your pores. And we," she said sweepingly of her entire gender, "are powerless to resist."

His left eyebrow raised, pulling the corner of his lip with it. "I'll have to work on being more specific in choosing my target, then. I'm not interested in casting my spell over everyone."

His tone was self-mocking, but his gaze was entirely serious. He didn't give a damn about charming anyone but her, and he wasn't even sure why. All he knew was that whenever she looked at him in that certain way, or paid him even the slightest of compliments, his pants grew uncomfortably tight. He felt like a teenager again, getting a hard-on every time his biology partner so much as brushed up against him.

"I'm not sure charm like yours can be contained," Bella said, playing along. "If you channel it all in one direction, for only one person, I think it might be too much for her to take. It would probably short-circuit her hormones or something."

Edward couldn't suppress a chuckle. "I think you greatly overestimate my powers of seduction, Miss Swan. Besides, I'm pretty sure that the girl I have in mind could handle just about anything I might throw at her."

The statement was loaded, and they both knew it.

"At least, I'm hoping she can," he added softly. He dropped his eyes to his coffee cup, and, noticing it was empty, motioned to Lydia across the room for a refill.

"She might be willing to give it the old college try," Bella answered, just as softly.

Their eyes were locked in another unspoken conversation while Lydia topped off their beverages. Both of them dared to hope now, though hope was a foolish endeavor, fraught with pitfalls. Yet neither of them was brave enough to voice that hope, and their silence only intensified after the waitress ambled away with her pot of java.

Edward cleared his throat and busied himself with doctoring his coffee in the usual way. "So, did you have a nice week?" he asked in a stilted tone, inwardly cursing his cowardice.

"Yeah, it was okay. I worked a lot, which is a good way to avoid being in the dorm too much. This time of year, I'm afraid I'll get drafted to help other kids move in if I don't look busy enough."

That made Edward smile and the tension eased a bit, Bella noted with relief. "How about you? How was your week?" she inquired.

He stirred his coffee carefully, avoiding her inquisitive gaze. "Fine. Same ol' same old."

"Your schedule looked pretty busy," she noted. "Which reminds me. . ."

She trailed off and began fishing through her backpack on the seat next to her. She pulled out Edward's day planner and gingerly pushed it toward him across the tabletop. They both stared at the black notebook as if it were made of plutonium.

"I hope you didn't miss any important appointments," Bella said, rather disingenuously.

He caught her tone and his eyes bored into hers, looking for clues to whatever she wasn't saying.

"I told you, I have my schedule on my phone. This is just a back-up." His voice rang hollow in his own ears.

"Right." Bella bit her lip and stared at the little black book, trying not to remember everything she'd read last night when she got home from work. She'd finally given in to temptation and scoured its contents, cover to cover. She wished she'd never done it, because she couldn't un-read the words. They marched across the pages of her mind now in an ugly, syncopated rhythm that began tumbling from her lips before she could stop them.

"Well, I didn't know if you had all the Cliff's Notes about your clients on your phone, too. I mean, you could get into trouble if you forgot which of your customers have kids, and what their names are; which ones prefer golf to tennis, or red wine to white; which ones like to be hand-cuffed or spanked before you fuck them. . . stuff like that."

Edward's eyes turned to flint and his mouth to sand. He could feel his nostrils flair in humiliation that she had pored through his appointment book, and self-disgust that his careless actions had practically begged her to do so.

Bella's face burned with the fire of her own audacity. She knew she had no right to judge him when she herself had hired him for sex, like so many other women before her. But she couldn't stop herself from challenging him, to see what he would say. To find out if he would defend himself, or fight for her. To discover who would win: the Real Edward, or Fantasy Edward.

"Touche, Miss Swan," he managed at last. "I deserve that. After all, I'm the idiot who put this in your purse to begin with." He reached for the planner, slowly pulling it across the table. "But whether you believe me or not, I haven't slept with all these women. Half the dates I go on aren't even about sex."

Bella's eyes were wide with shock. "Wait, what? Back up a minute. You _put_ your day planner in my purse? On purpose?"

His stomach roiled miserably. "It was a mistake. I'm sorry."

"So you _wanted_ me to read all of that?"

"I wanted to see you again, that's all. I definitely went about it the wrong way."

She emitted an incredulous laugh. "That's an understatement. Do you have any idea how it made me feel to see what you really do, in black and white? It's one thing to have a vague idea, but quite another to see the details. The names, the places. The _positions_." She spat the last word like a snake spewing venom. He couldn't know how she was recoiling again inside, just like she had last night, imagining how boring he must have found sex with her.

He could hear her self-doubt rearing its ugly head, and he reached out instinctively, closing his hand over hers on the table. They both felt the jolt of electricity generated from their first touch since last weekend. She flinched, but she didn't pull away.

"Bella, look at me," he ordered, then waited until she lifted reluctant eyes to his. "None of those women mean anything to me. I have to write those notes to myself just to keep each utterly forgettable date from blurring into the next one."

Her eyes rolled in disbelief and he squeezed her hand harder until her gaze met his again. He leaned in close, his voice low and urgent. "You were there with me in that hotel room last weekend, weren't you? You know what we shared. _That_ meant something to me."

She stared at him in desperation, shaking her head, fighting tears. "I hate how much I want to believe you."

He closed his other hand around hers, clasping her warm fingers between his. "I hate how much I need you to."

She closed her eyes before the swell of his relentless sea-colored gaze drowned her resolve. She let out a shaky breath and said, "All I could think of last night after I read your notes was, 'I wonder what he'll write about me so he can remember who the hell I am?'"

Her words pierced him, wounding him much more deeply than the cutting remark she'd made during their first dinner together. He shook his head in frustration, wondering how she could think their time together meant so little to him. But then he glanced down and saw the burden of proof against him, written in his own hand on the pages of that appointment book.

He let go of her hand and opened the notebook, retrieving the pen tucked in its front cover. He flipped back to the "notes" section until he came to a blank page. He scrawled a few words in large letters at the top and then turned the notebook around, shoving it toward her.

She slowly lowered her eyes to the page and took a deep breath.

_Saturday, August 20 - Bella Swan.  
><em>_Unforgettable._

Her breath caught; she faltered before she fought back. "You're good, I'll give you that. That charm of yours. . ."

"Fuck charm. I'm not being charming. I'm being honest. I don't need to write anything else down because everything about you is etched permanently in my mind. Would you like me to recite a litany of your likes and dislikes? Your favorite color is yellow because it's cheerful. You like Indian and Asian food. You don't like sports, but you pretend to for your step-dad's sake.

"Your dating history is brief but filled with clueless boys and assholes. You're embarrassed when you shouldn't be, and brave when it's foolish to be. You're an optimist about everyone else, but a pessimist when it comes to yourself. You don't have any idea how beautiful you are, or how good you smell or taste. You do this little lip-biting thing all the time that drives me crazy and makes me want to kiss you. You have a beauty mark on your left ass cheek, your right breast is the tiniest bit larger than your left, and your second toes are longer than your first. And when you come, you make the most amazing sounds in the world."

He stopped then, a bit stunned at the speech he'd just rattled off. How the hell did she get him to do that? - Gut and serve himself up to her over his favorite table at Mott's like he was the next course.

Bella's blood was pounding in her ears as if he'd actually made her come instead of just talking about it. "Charm" was definitely the wrong word for it, but whatever Edward had just unleashed on her had definitely short-circuited her hormones, and it was most certainly more than she could take.

But she had taken it. She sat in stunned silence, trying to let his words sink in. Trying to wrap her mind around the fact that she hadn't been imagining things; that she hadn't been wasting her time with wishful thinking this past week. That she really had affected him, somehow. That she was special.

And yet, something still didn't quite fit. Some part of the puzzle remained unsolved. As her eyes dropped to glance at Edward's signature scrawl once more, she remembered what it was. She looked up into those expressive eyes of his, still raw and naked from his unexpected outpouring.

"I believe you," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "But there's just one more thing I need to know."

He waited, bracing himself for whatever was coming.

"Am I as unforgettable as Emily?"

* * *

><p><strong>Don't worry, more to come. Breakfast hasn't even been served yet!<strong>

**So sorry I was a review-answering failure on the last chapter! Real life kept me from the computer for a few days. But luckily I had a spurt of creativity last night and finished this chapter. Hopefully you'll accept that as my thanks for the wonderful feedback you all continue to give. Blessings to each and every one of you! :) xoxo**


	19. Chapter 19

**Since the next part of this story has turned out to be longer than I anticipated (and I'm still writing it), I've decided to divide it into two chapters so that I can post part of it now. It's a short one, but the next chapter will be longer, and I might have it finished by the weekend. :) (Didn't want to keep you hanging with this Emily business any longer!)**

* * *

><p>"Emily?"<p>

Edward echoed Bella's last word in stunned surprise. His brow furrowed for a moment as he tried to understand where that question came from.

"Your standing Thursday appointment," she clarified, faltering a bit. "You said none of the women in that planner mean anything to you, but I don't believe that. She's the person you spend every Thursday with, no matter what. So obviously, she's important to you, in some way. . ."

She trailed off, beginning to feel embarrassed, as if she'd overstepped. She felt even worse when she heard Edward's reply.

"She is important. She means the world to me."

Bella's heart stuttered and flopped helplessly in her chest. "I see," she managed to choke out, then reached for her coffee cup to take a drink.

Edward observed her with interest. Patches of pink mottled her cheeks, and her eyes reminded him of a wounded fawn's. He felt a horribly perverse sense of satisfaction as he viewed the evidence that his feelings for her were reciprocated, even though she hadn't spouted them in a fountain of word vomit like he just had. He marveled that she had somehow managed to gloss over the bevy of women he may or may not have bedded, and zeroed in on the one who existed entirely outside of that world. Could it be that ultimately she didn't care where his dick had been, and was only concerned about who held his heart?

"You don't think Emily is one of my clients, do you?" he asked.

Bella was startled at Edward's tone. It sounded almost. . . amused.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking. She's the only one you see every week without fail, so I just assumed that she's someone special to you." Her face screwed up in consternation and she had trouble looking him in the eye. "I'm sorry, I never should have snooped in your appointment book like that. I'm a nosy bitch. It's none of my business who you spend your time with, for work or otherwise."

She hid behind her coffee cup again, taking another generous sip. She glanced over its edge at Edward with trepidation, and saw a tiny grin twisting his lips. He _was_ amused. What the hell?

"I'm the one who put the damned book in your handbag to begin with, so I certainly can't blame you for reading it. I hung myself in my own noose with that move."

He had no time to elaborate further, because Lydia was heading their way with two large matching platters of omelets, bacon, hash browns and toast. He thanked the waitress politely after she served their food, while Bella unfolded her napkin in her lap and stared a moment at the breakfast before her. It smelled delicious, but her appetite was lost in nervous apprehension. Still, she was glad for the diversion from their uncomfortable conversation, so she readily began picking at her food.

Edward took a healthy bite of egg-wrapped ham, veggies and cheese - damn, Mott's still made the best omelet he'd ever tasted. As he chewed, he watched Bella listlessly lift a tiny bit of egg to her mouth. Even though he was guiltily enjoying her jealousy, he decided he really should put her out of her misery.

"Emily is not one of my customers," he informed her. He waited until Bella's eyes jumped up to meet his before he continued. "She's my grandmother."

He paused to see if a look of relief would relax her features. When it did, he continued.

"I visit her every Thursday at Tranquility Gardens, which is just another fancy name for one of those places that masquerades as a picturesque retirement residence, when it's really just a glorified nursing home."

Bella's bit of egg got stuck in her throat for a second before she swallowed it down. "Edward's granny" had been her number one hope for the identity of the mystery woman in his planner, but she certainly hadn't wished for the circumstances to be what they were.

"Is she ill?" Bella felt stupid as soon as she asked. Obviously she wasn't in good health, or she wouldn't be in long-term care.

Edward nodded and turned his attention back to his food, unable to elaborate. He could never seem to talk about the insidious dementia that stole a little more of the woman he loved every day.

"I'm sorry," Bella mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

Edward sawed at his omelet with unnecessary vigor. "Yeah, me too," he said quietly before lifting the loaded fork to his mouth.

She continued to work at her own breakfast, even though the revelation about Emily had done anything but whet her appetite. She felt like she should say something else, but she wasn't sure what.

"It's nice that you go see her every week," she offered at last.

Edward's smile was wry. "My cousin and I are all she has," was his brief reply before changing the subject. "How's your breakfast, by the way? The omelets here are my favorites."

Bella gave him a weak smile. "It's delicious."

"You don't seem to be enjoying it very much," he said reprovingly.

"I guess I'm not that hungry this morning. But it really is good, honestly."

They ate in silence for a few moments, both remembering the tension of their last dinner together. Edward wondered how he would navigate the minefield of questions that were sure to follow his disclosure. And Bella's mind was awhirl with them, now that Emily's identity had been revealed. Chief among them was, _Where are Edward's parents? _If he and a solitary cousin were all Emily had left in the world, then something must have happened to the rest of his family.

Something awful.

And if that were true, then that meant Edward had probably taken responsibility for Emily's care. Suddenly the portrait of Edward Cullen became startlingly, depressingly clear: not only had he most likely suffered the untimely loss of his parents, he had become an escort so he could pay for his grandmother's housing and medical bills. And perhaps he was the caretaker for his cousin as well.

Edward glanced up at Bella and grew sick inside at her expression. He knew it all too well. It was the reason he didn't talk about himself, his life or his choices. He couldn't take the inevitable reaction.

"Don't look at me like that," he ordered gruffly.

"Like what?" she exclaimed in surprise.

"Like you feel sorry for me. I don't want or need your pity."

"I didn't mean to. . ." she trailed off, not sure what she did mean. She hadn't realized she was looking at him that way, but how could she not? His situation _was_ pitiable.

"Well, I'm sorry, but if you're telling me what I think you are, it explains so much about you that I didn't understand," she blurted. "It's been driving me crazy not knowing why you're an escort when you could be so much more. When you _want_ to be so much more. I mean, a lot of guys would consider getting paid to be a total player the ultimate dream job, but you're not one of them."

He raised an eyebrow at her, wondering how she'd been able to make a judgment call about his morality so quickly. And accurately.

"At least it makes sense to me now," she continued. "You're paying for your grandmother's long-term care, and God knows what other kinds of bills she might have left behind when she got sick. Am I right?"

Edward didn't know whether he was annoyed or relieved that she had figured everything out, for the most part. At least it spared him from going into further details.

"Excellent detective work, Miss Swan," he commended her. "But if you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about this any more. It is what it is. Shit happens. People deal with it the best way they know how."

The subject was obviously closed as far as Edward was concerned, but Bella couldn't help but push her luck with one last supposition. "So I'm guessing that being an escort pays a lot more than being a concert pianist?"

His answering smile was stiff. "Unless you're some kind of child prodigy or wunderkind who would draw huge, high-paying audiences, then you're looking at about the same salary as a teacher would get. And I was fine with that until -" he cut himself off, lips pursing together, before he continued. "Until I needed a lot more money than that to make ends meet. End of story."

Bella nodded and fell silent. She bowed her head over the remainder of her breakfast and set about finishing it, though her stomach felt like a lead balloon. Her heart ached for Edward, and a little for herself. Instead of being relieved at the explanation of his choices, she was only more anxious. On one hand, the reasons behind his line of work were much more understandable, perhaps even excusable. But on the other, she realized that those reasons were also nonnegotiable. Edward obviously took his responsibilities seriously and would not be swayed from meeting them. He would not be giving up the escort business as long as it allowed him to care for the only family he had left.

No matter how much their brief time together meant to Edward Cullen, if she were to issue him an ultimatum - his job, or her - she would lose.

She knew what the smart thing to do would be. She should walk away right now, before she got in any deeper. If she had entertained any hopes that he might give up the business for her, they were now dashed. She would have to take him as is, or leave him.

She gazed at him now, head bent over his plate, making quick work of his hash browns like they might run off with the bacon if he didn't dispose of them both at once. His brows were pulled unhappily together and his eyelashes cast feathery shadows on his cheeks where the sunlight slanted across them. His impossibly pink lips made various silly-putty shapes in an effort to stay closed over his teeth as he masticated his food. She felt the same panic wash over her now as she had in the hotel bathroom last weekend, listening to his voice in the next room: she was horrified that this might be the last time she'd experience it.

As if reading her mind, he suddenly looked up at her, stopped chewing and swallowed. Their eyes began one of those silent exchanges that made her heart stop and her nerves spring to life. As she read the pain and uncertainty she saw there, Bella wasn't sure she cared about doing the smart thing anymore. What she was considering might, in fact, be the dumbest thing she'd ever do. All she knew was that she couldn't say good-bye to Edward Cullen. Not yet.

"I'm sorry if I was short with you," he apologized, his voice as warm as the butter that had melted over her half-eaten toast. "I told you that you were important to me, and then acted offended when you needed something from me in return. It's just hard for me to talk about certain things. And when I do, it usually throws a very effective wet blanket over what might have been a nice time."

"Don't apologize. I promised you last weekend that I wouldn't push you about your personal life, but I keep doing it. It's my fault," Bella insisted.

He disagreed with a shake of his head. "You've been nothing but open and honest with me from the beginning. You deserve the same in return. You've been pretty patient with me, all things considered."

"I think you forget how patient you were with me last weekend. I'll try harder to return the favor."

They were giving each other a reciprocal "you're too good to be true" look when Lydia returned to their table, coffee pot in one hand and bill pad in the other. Edward looked to Bella for approval before waving away the coffee and asking for the check instead.

Bella glanced at her watch, then out the window at the uncharacteristically sunny weather. "We can still have a nice time, you know," she encouraged Edward after the waitress left them. "I don't have to go to work for another half-hour. Why don't we go hang out in that little park across the street? I'll let you push me on the swings."

A strange look darkened his features for a moment, then quickly passed. "You'll _let_ me push you, huh?" he teased, that irresistible half-grin of his taking over. "I like that spin. I'll consider it a privilege, then."

"As you should," she teased back. "Maybe if I get lucky, you'll let me push you, too."

"Oh, I'm pretty sure luck is on your side, Miss Swan." He was still grinning as he pulled out his wallet and threw a wad of cash on the table. Bella reached for her backpack to pay her fair share, but when she caught Edward's resulting glare, she stopped short.

"I can pay for my own breakfast, you know," she said crossly.

"I'm sure you can. But you're not going to."

His tone was decisive, even imperious. She found it oddly hot.

"What's this 'Miss Swan' stuff, anyway? Aren't we past the formal stage now?"

His grin became positively wicked. "I mean it only as a term of the utmost respect. But if you'd like me to be less respectful, I'm sure I can come up with something."

The hairs on the back of her neck prickled. "'Bella' will work just fine."

"All right." He chuckled as he rose from his bench seat. "Are you ready to go, Bella?"

"Absolutely, Mister Cullen," she replied smoothly, grabbing her backpack and getting up from the table to join him.

His answering laugh was loud and genuine. Damn if she didn't give as good as she got. He hesitantly reached for her hand, but she didn't see the gesture - she was already ahead of him, making a beeline for the door. He had the feeling that this wouldn't be the last time he'd be following her lead.

And he found that he rather liked it.

* * *

><p><strong>Huge thanks go out to Songster and The Fictionators for including The Agreement in their first ever podcast, and their Fictionator Friday post! It was such a trip to hear someone discuss my story - gave me a very warm fuzzy or three inside. :)<strong>

**Another BIG thank-you to Cared for putting together my first-ever PicTease for this chapter, posted on TwiFic News and The Fictionators a couple of days ago. Hope you all enjoyed it!**

**And huge, never-ending thanks to all of you checking out my fic and leaving such great feedback. I appreciate the love, and even the brutal honesty. I know the premise of this story is not going to be everyone's cup of tea. But I appreciate anyone who takes a sip, even if only to find out whether or not it's to your liking. ;)**

**So, if I survive the hoopla surrounding the Cosmopolis premiere in Cannes tomorrow (RO-O-O-B-B! - *swoon* - that is all), I'll try to finish up the next chapter and post it before I take off for the weekend. To all my USA readers, a very happy Memorial Day weekend to you! xoxo**


	20. Chapter 20

The sun was already warm this morning, but the breeze still cool on their skin. Edward admired the way Bella's hair bounced softly in time with her gait as she led the way across the street to the park. She could feel his eyes on her, and she glanced back in time to catch his gaze wandering south. The resulting goose bumps that raced up her arms and down her back had nothing to do with the crisp air. When Edward caught up to her and placed a hand lightly on her tailbone, the tingles only spread and intensified.

"Are you cold?" His voice was anxious. "You can have my shirt."

"No, I'm fine," she assured him, stopping him short from removing the garment. She frowned when she realized she'd just blown a good opportunity to admire his body in only that thin, v-necked t-shirt.

As they passed the sandbox, Edward glanced at the boy and girl who still inhabited it, diligently building their castle with the aid of several plastic buckets and bits of tree branches.

"We need to make lots of windows for the princess to let her long hair down, so the prince can rescue her," the girl said, carving niches in the side of what was apparently supposed to be a turret.

"And I'll build a bridge over the moat so he has something to stand on while he fights off the fire-breathing dragons," the boy added with relish, laying bundles of twigs over the deep ravine he'd carved at the base of their abode.

Bella chuckled at the children's conversation as she and Edward walked on. "How cute is that? But he sounded way more interested in slaying dragons than actually rescuing the princess. Typical."

"Maybe the male species is hardwired to crave a few challenges on the way to claiming the prize," Edward suggested.

"Yeah? Well, I hope the female species isn't hardwired to just sit around watching our hair grow, hoping that some prince will come along and save us from our boring existence. I'd like to think we've evolved a bit more than that."

"You definitely have," he agreed. "It's us guys who are having trouble catching up. We're not sure how to impress you if you have no use for our heroics anymore."

Bella let out a laugh that sounded like music to him. "Well, lucky for you, we haven't evolved _that_ much. I'm pretty sure we still have a weak spot for a guy who's willing to slay a dragon or two for us."

He walked ahead of her as they neared the swing-set, then turned and backed slowly toward it, facing her. "So a guy who fights for what he wants is still sexy, then?"

_Dear God. _Bella wished she could pull out her phone and capture the way he was he was grinning down at her - the very picture of "sexy." His big blue-green eyes were so sure and yet questioning at the same time that she wanted to throw herself on him and cover him with kisses until any trace of uncertainty had vanished.

"The sexiest," she answered without hesitation.

His face relaxed into a cocky grin. "Too bad there are no dragons standing between us and these swings, then. I'd have you swooning by the time I cleared the way for us to sit on them."

_Dear. GOD. _She really was nearly praying this time, for strength. And continued consciousness. Because if anyone could actually make her swoon, it was the smirk-a-licious man smirking down at her right now.

"Well, in the absence of any monsters standing between us, I'm afraid you'll have to impress me some other way," she challenged, edging closer to him, lifting her chin.

_Sweet Jesus. _It was Edward's turn to appeal to a higher power. He'd thrown down the gauntlet, but she'd picked it up and tossed it right back at him. And that, to him, was the sexiest thing in the world.

He drew closer to her, his head dropping, one hand reaching around to the small of her back, the other closing gently around her chin. Their eyes locked, lips parted, breath caught. The longing between them was palpable. . . irresistible.

Which was exactly why Edward chose to resist it. When Bella's eyes fluttered closed in preparation for his kiss, he spoke instead.

"Then I'll just have to see how far I can push you," he murmured, his lips brushing lightly against hers as he formed the words.

Her eyes fluttered back open, then narrowed in confusion.

"On the swings," Edward clarified, giving her an angelic smile instead of a kiss.

With Herculean effort, he freed her from his embrace, took a step back and lifted one arm toward the swing-set behind them in invitation.

"Ladies first," he insisted sweetly.

Bella's mouth dropped open in disbelief before pressing closed in a bemused scowl. The self-satisfied smirk on Edward's face now had a very different effect on her than it had a moment ago. She wished she had longer fingernails so she could scratch it off.

"You think you're cute, don't you?" she demanded, irritated that he was, in fact, annoyingly adorable at that moment.

"It doesn't matter what I think. I'm only interested in your thoughts on the matter."

"Oh, you're cute, all right. Too cute for your own good." She ignored his shit-eating grin and marched past him toward the middle swing, tossing her backpack aside before plopping her butt down on the sturdy slate-gray seat. The swing was an old-fashioned affair, suspended from a heavy metal base by long, thick, rusted chains. She grabbed one in each hand and gazed up at the support bar far above her head.

"This is an awesome swing-set," she proclaimed. "This sucker will go really high."

"That sounds like a challenge if I ever heard one," Edward answered as he approached. He positioned himself behind her and grasped the swing's seat on either side of Bella's perfect posterior, easily pulling it with him as he took a few steps backward. "Ready?"

"Ready."

She gripped the chains tightly and lifted her feet just in time for him to give the swing a hearty shove. She squealed a little as she flew forward, her hair billowing behind her like a superhero's cape before blowing in her face when she flew right back to Edward's waiting arms.

He easily caught the heavy seat of the swing in time to heft it forward again, and he laughed along with her as she took off. He tried to remember the last time he had pushed someone on a swing. He figured it must have been Alice, years ago, when she was little. But they never came here to play. Em never brought them back to this park. She had always taken them to places where they could make new memories instead of reliving the old.

But now he was beginning to think that his grandmother had it all wrong. As Edward propelled Bella higher and higher, making her laugh and whoop like a child again, he caught a strange sense of hope that he hadn't felt in years. Joy was swiftly replacing the melancholy that usually seized him when he stared across the street at his childhood haunt through the haze of Mott's grease-tinted windows. Bella had breathed new life into this place. It filled his lungs so full that he gave her an enormous push before expelling it with a loud laugh back into the summer air.

She shrieked and hung onto the chains for dear life as the swing rushed forward and soared into the sky. She flew so high that her butt left the seat and she hung, suspended in mid-air, for an agonizing second before slamming back down on the heavy plastic and taking the inevitable journey back to Edward.

"You almost knocked me off!" she cried as she plummeted backward.

"Sorry," he called, cringing and bracing his hands to slow the contraption down rather than rocket her into the stratosphere again. "I got carried away."

As she swung away from him, she leaned back, letting her head dangle upside down so that her long hair brushed the sandy ground below. "I forgive you. It was kind of fun." She grinned over her shoulder as she swung back to him. "Scary, but fun."

She had the feeling that she had just summed up their budding relationship, if that's what it was, in three words.

Edward fell silent, watching her arc away from him and back again, over and over, in a repetitive cadence that became more disturbing the longer it went on. He found himself inwardly chanting _come back _each time she glided out of his grasp, and wanting to grab the swing to keep her with him each time she returned.

When she finally broke the silence, her voice was a welcome panacea. "Just so you know, you're not the only one who was paying attention last weekend," she began as he gave her another gentle push. She waited until she'd drifted back to him before she continued. "Your favorite color is burgundy," - _swing, return_ - "your favorite food is Italian," - _swing, return_ - "and you like playing classical music," - _swing, return_ - "but you love listening to the blues."

He was done letting her escape then. He moved around to face her and stop her forward momentum, grabbing the heavy chains on either side to slow them down. She grinned up at his efforts and continued.

"You run your fingers through your hair when you're nervous, and your nostrils flair in this really sexy way when you get mad. . . or you're about to come."

He grunted as he forced the swing to a standstill and stared down at her, his insides twisting in that way they did every time she confronted him with that blunt honesty.

"I'm guessing you have at least a dozen moles and freckles all over your torso, but it was too dark in the hotel bedroom for me to count them. They make me want to play connect-the-dots on your body, starting with the ones on your back. I'd trace them up to the little ones on your neck, and then down to this big one, right here, on your stomach." She put her hand over his t-shirt and felt for the slight protrusion in the place she remembered.

"So you have a mole fetish," Edward accused with the quirk of an eyebrow. "Kinky."

"Only for you. You make moles sexy." She couldn't stop rubbing her hand over the soft cotton covering his belly. She wanted to pull it up and put her lips to his skin - taste that dark beauty mark, trace that trail of hair that led to the growing bulge in his faded pants. "You make everything sexy," she concluded with a sigh. "It's kind of annoying."

He emitted a soft snort at that. His blood was percolating nicely now, warm and bubbling under his skin, making his dick throb and swell. Her eyes fell to glance at it tenting the fabric of his pants, and the tiny grin that stole over her face made him want to groan out loud in frustration.

"I lied last weekend when I told you I didn't know what my favorite music was," she said, gazing upward again as he bowed his head closer to hers. "It's the sound of your voice. The tone. . . it's like honey, or molasses. I can't explain it." She deliberated a moment, then finally admitted, "It's the reason I left my earring in your overnight bag."

Edward's eyebrows reached for his hairline. "What? Are you telling me you planted that earring in my travel case?"

"Not exactly," she hedged. "I really did find it in the side pocket after we ran into each other. But when I heard you talking on the phone in the other room, I couldn't stand the thought of never hearing your voice again. And then I left my earring where it landed, so I'd have an excuse to see you again."

The grin that stretched over Edward's face felt like it was touching his earlobes.

"What's that saying about great minds?"

"'Great minds trick alike,' I think," Bella joked.

"Well, I like that kind of trick. More of a treat, I'd say. Which reminds me. . ." He reached into the right front pocket of his jeans and procured a small jewelry box, then dropped dramatically to one knee before her.

"What are you doing?" she exclaimed as he held out his hand, offering her what resembled a tiny antique pill box encrusted with multi-colored jewels. She stared at it for an awkward moment, not understanding the gesture - a gesture that resembled a proposal far too closely for comfort.

"Come on, take it," Edward urged with that irresistible smirk.

She reached out one wary hand to lift the miniature jewelry box from his palm, then gingerly opened it. There, nestled in a cushion of wine-colored velvet, was her missing diamond-and-pearl earring.

She exhaled in relief, and it almost sounded like a laugh. "Thanks. My grandma would kill me if I lost this." She closed the hinged lid of the box and examined its exquisite inlaid gems - probably costume jewels, but definitely vintage and worth some money. "This is beautiful. It looks like a family heirloom itself. I can't accept this."

"Yes, you can." He put his other knee to the ground to steady himself, then curled his hand around hers and watched the sun refract off of the rhinestones she held. "This was my grandmother's. She has no use for it anymore. I thought you should have a special place to keep your grandmother's earrings, so you don't lose them. Of course, I didn't know you were throwing them into strangers' bags on purpose," he added with a chuckle.

"You weren't a stranger to me," she corrected him with a meaningful look. Then she stared at the jewelry box once more, a film of tears forming at the significance of Edward's gift. "This was Emily's?"

He nodded, his own eyes threatening to tear up at the sight of hers. He looked down and closed her fingers around the box. "It's yours now."

She reached her free hand up to touch his face, willing him to look at her. "I'll cherish it," she promised. "Thank you."

She lowered her face; he raised his. Their eyes caressed long before their lips did. When their mouths finally met, they both sighed at the contact and reveled in warm, shared breath before their lips resumed the caress.

"Ew, they're kissing!" A young boy's sounds of distaste wafted on the breeze to Edward's and Bella's ears, making them reluctantly break apart with a chuckle.

"Shut up, it's romantic," came a little girl's retort. The couple on the swing glanced over at their much younger counterparts in the sandbox, which prompted the girl to hiss, "They heard you, stupid!"

"You're stupid!" he shot back. "Kissing is stupid."

The boy and girl were still arguing as Edward and Bella turned amused faces back to one another. "I told you he was all about the dragons," she said with a knowing look.

Edward grinned and pulled her close to him again. "Give him a little time. He hasn't realized yet that she's already got him wrapped around her little finger."

Bella reached for his face again, rubbing her thumb over the seeds of stubble sprouting around his lips. "So you think she's got him whipped already?"

His grin spread wider. "He doesn't stand a chance."

She was grinning herself, giddily, happily. It was easy to pretend she was the only one in Edward's world when he held her close like this. Easy to forget anyone or anything else existed.

Edward felt it, too, and it made him begin to ache inside. What would happen once they left this park? In only a few short minutes, it had once again become a source of bittersweet emotion for him. The world outside was about to pull him away from it, and from her.

He lifted his hands to her face, letting them take their fill of her soft skin. He sighed and focused sober eyes on hers.

"What are we doing here, Bella?"

She knew he didn't mean the park, or the swing-set. Still, she answered, "Swinging."

He couldn't even snicker at the sexual implications, considering what he did for a living.

"That can be pretty dangerous," he reminded her. "I almost pushed you too far."

"Maybe I'm not into playing it safe." Her attempt at bravado fell a little flat.

Their hands held each other's faces, and they remained nose to nose, willing captives.

"It's against the rules for me to see a client outside of work, you know," he reminded her. "Of course, I know what you think of rules in general."

She gave him a half-smile. "Fuck 'em," she said, and then kissed him again. He kissed her back, and it quickly bordered on dark and desperate despite the summer sun filtering through the trees above.

When they broke apart for air, she added, "How would Rosalie know, anyway? Did she have a chip implanted in your scalp so she can track you?"

"Not yet," he replied, his quick grin fading. "I'm being serious here. This situation - it's impossible. It's. . . beneath you. I won't ask you to - I can't _let_ you - get involved with me." The words left a bitter taste in his mouth, and his lip twitched from the effort of spitting them out.

She gaped at him, brows knitted into a mask of disbelief. Her stomach churned with now-familiar panic at the thought of him walking away. One hand tightened around the jewelry box while the other gripped the hard edge of his jaw more firmly.

"You can't _let_ me?" she repeated, defiant tears pricking her eyes once more. "You don't get to make that decision for me. I see whoever I like, whenever I like. I'm a big girl, Edward, whether you think so or not."

"Not big enough to handle the reality of my life," he argued with a shake of his head.

Bella ignored the grain of truth to his words and took a different tack. "You said that our time together meant something to you. We planted personal items with each other just so we'd have an excuse to see each other again. How can you walk away from that?" she entreated. Pain flashed through his eyes, and she latched onto it like a barnacle to the side of a sinking ship. "Maybe I won't let you walk away. Maybe I can't."

Pain twisted his entire face now, his eyes pleading with hers. "Think about what you're saying. Do you really think you can ignore what I do for a living? Honestly?"

Her lip trembled slightly and she clamped down on it with her teeth. "Honestly? I don't know. A week ago I would have said, 'Hell, no.' Never in a million years when I hired you did I think I'd want to see you again. I mean, that was the whole point - we were supposed to be a one-time thing. But you were so different from how I thought you'd be. I never counted on that. I never counted on actually feeling something for you."

His eyes reflected her own futile desire, and her hand slid around his neck to possess him, her fingers twisting and gripping the thick, short hair at his nape. "Once wasn't enough," she whispered. "I want more."

And his mouth was on hers again, fierce and hungry and wanting; and she thrilled to the wanting, because it matched her own. His fingers wound in her hair as she clawed at his scalp, and her tongue tasted and swirled inside him, inviting him to do the same.

He groaned as he accepted the invitation. He thought vaguely that he should stop, because they were giving the sandbox children more of an education than they really needed right now; and because he couldn't afford to want her a second time, and a third, and a hundredth.

But his hands weren't listening to his brain. They skimmed over Bella's shoulders and down her back, then grabbed her hips to pull her, and the swing, closer. Her legs parted like the sea so that her torso could meet his, and the contact made them sigh and clutch and kiss more fervently, until they heard a much different sound from the distant sandbox.

"Whoa!" The boy was definitely more interested in this display of affection. It sounded as if he might be changing his stance on the act of kissing. A slightly dazed and embarrassed Edward and Bella pulled away from each other then.

"Shit," Edward mumbled, his hands grasping her face, stroking and yet holding her at a distance. "This is crazy, what you do to me."

She tried to shake her head against the warm grip of his hands. "Not crazy. We found each other for a reason. I know it." Her voice brimmed with determination. "I don't know how this is going to work any better than you do. I'm just asking you not to close the door on us."

Edward shook his own head, amazed at her volition. "Bella, you're about to start classes this week. You'll be busy with schoolwork, your job, dorm parties. . ." he trailed off as she grimaced. "You should be soaking up the whole college experience right now. Getting an education, growing up, having fun. Not wasting time on a guy who can't do relationships."

"Can't, or won't?" she asked pointedly. "What happened to that guy who just asked me if it was sexy to fight for what he wants?"

He flinched slightly. "Maybe he realized it's a losing proposition for the girl he claims to be fighting for."

"But you don't know that. Things could change. You could -" Could what? _Give up being an escort for me,_ was what she wanted to say. But how did she have any right to make that kind of demand? They'd only known each other a week. Neither of them had expected this to happen. It dawned on her that she was probably an unwelcome distraction in his life, and he might be trying to nip this in the bud before it got any more complicated.

She closed her eyes and exhaled, then opened them again. "I can't promise you that I'm okay with our situation. I only know that I'm not okay with you disappearing on me. I just want to see you again. Talk to you. Text, email, whatever. Just don't say good-bye."

He stared at her plaintive expression and felt himself crumbling inside. He combed his hands gently through her tangled hair before letting them rest on her shoulders.

"I don't think I could say good-bye to you if I wanted to."

Her smile was small, but the victory felt huge. She didn't know why, because she had no idea exactly what she'd won.

Edward grabbed the swing-set chains and began to pull himself upright, pausing to give Bella a gentle kiss on the forehead before standing and offering her his outstretched palm. "You have to go to work soon, right?"

She nodded in disappointment and took his hand, letting him help her up. They paused so she could retrieve her backpack, then walked hand in hand across the grass, past the tittering sandbox children, until they reached the street. Edward could see the unmistakable shape of her vintage truck down the block, and he led her in that direction, his fingers linked between hers.

They walked in silence, listening to the traffic on one side and birds chirping on the other. He let go of her hand only long enough for her to find her keys and open the truck door, then took it again in order to help her into the ancient iron cab. After she was seated, he looked down at her white hand, so small in his, and rubbed his thumb thoughtfully across her knuckles.

"I spent this whole week looking forward to the next time I'd see you," he told her quietly, still staring at their fingers entwined. "That doesn't happen to me. Whatever this is between us - it doesn't happen to me."

He slowly raised his eyes to hers, uncertain sea to unwavering earth. "But it is happening. And I don't know what to do about it. Part of me doesn't want it. It would be so much easier if I didn't. But the rest of me has never wanted anything so much in my life."

He gazed into the dark depths of her expectant eyes, warm and waiting. Waiting for him to man up, to give her what she deserved. But when he opened his mouth again, he gave her only what he could afford.

"I don't want to make any promises I can't keep. I don't know where any of this can go, or what I could possibly have to offer you. But I can promise you that I won't say good-bye."

_Cheap, _he muttered darkly to himself. _You can't afford much for such a well-paid bastard, can you?_

But Bella smiled as though he'd just handed her the world on a silver platter, and he couldn't begin to fathom why. She leaned up toward him to receive his kiss, and he was only too willing to bestow it. He let go of her hand so he could capture her face instead, stroking her soft skin in accompaniment as he tasted her sweet mouth.

He pulled back, sighing in reluctance, but noting her own disappointed pout with satisfaction.

"I _will_ see you again soon," he told her emphatically, avoiding the horrible cliché, _I'll call you._

She only nodded and gave him that knowing grin of hers before she started the rumbling motor of the truck. He shut the door with a secure slam, but she rolled down the window a minute later.

"See you, Edward." Her smile was that of the cat who ate the canary, just like last week.

Sputtering and wheezing, the truck changed gears, then trundled down the street with its precious cargo at the wheel. After the red monster was out of sight, Edward turned and walked back to his own sleek and silent vehicle. He unlocked it and fell unceremoniously into the low driver's seat, then grunted in annoyance. The day planner he'd shoved in his back pocket was being smashed firmly into his right ass cheek by the leather bucket seat. He reached back and dug the appointment book out of his jeans, then flipped through it quickly out of habit, glancing inside the back cover to make sure his keepsake was still tucked securely there.

Except that it wasn't.

It wasn't there.

He stared at the empty black pocket for a moment, uncomprehending. Then he pulled the leather flap open, peering at its interior in case his lucky charm had somehow been squashed, accordion-like, into the corner.

But it wasn't.

He flipped to the front, thinking that perhaps Bella had pulled it out to look at it, and then returned it to the wrong place. He found nothing but his lonely pen, tucked into another empty pocket of darkness.

He shook the book then, willing the fragile remembrance of his mother to magically appear, to slip out of the pages and flutter to his lap like a butterfly released from a cocoon. But it was no use.

Edward's good luck charm was gone.

* * *

><p><strong>I did it - I survived Cannes. I am still floating on a euphoric cloud of Robbliss right now. Happy, happy week it's been. :) Between that and the holiday weekend here in the States, I was a review-answering failure once more. But please know I am very, very grateful for the support - you all truly keep me going.<strong> **xoxoxo**

**P.S. Apparently that comment above made it sound as if I was actually IN Cannes! Haha - only in my dreams! Sorry to mislead you. I only meant that when I wasn't out of town or working, I was in Virtual Cannes - watching videos, reading interviews, etc. For those of you who were actually there, I do envy you. *sigh***


	21. Chapter 21

Bella managed to maintain a euphoric high for most of the afternoon.

The book store was swamped with customers, leaving her little time to ponder the events of the morning. Yet they colored her every action, making her beam at her customers with a warmth and enthusiasm she'd never managed before. She couldn't match their grumpiness as they forked over exorbitant amounts of money for text books and other class-related supplies. She was too giddy at the memory of Edward's hungry kisses, longing stares and heartfelt words to feel anything but happy.

She knew, deep down, that this happiness was built on a foundation of sand, just like the castles created by the children in the park. But she wasn't ready to come down from her tower just yet. After all, her prince had scaled some impressive heights so far to reach her. Now all they had to do was face the monsters waiting for them the minute they attempted a descent from their fairytale world.

"Bella? Ohmygod! I totally forgot you were working at the book store."

Jarred from her fantasy, Bella jumped at the sound of a familiar, slightly grating voice from her past. She looked up at the familiar brown curls, blue eyes and enormous jugs of her high school "frenemy," Jessica Stanley.

"Hey, Jess, how are you doing?"

"I'm great! How are you? You look great," Jessica replied with typical overbearing zeal.

"So do you. I'm really good, thanks. Did you just get here?"

"No, I've been in Seattle for over a week now, for sorority rush. We found some really cool girls to pledge this year. You really should have gone through rush week, Bella. I made so many great friends last year by joining Grab-A-Thigh-Later." Bella blinked, wondering what she'd just heard, because it couldn't have been _that. _She realized she really ought to brush up on the Greek alphabet.

"That's great. I just don't know if the Greek system is really my thing, you know?" She busied herself scanning Jessica's books, which, from the looks of the titles, revealed that she was either majoring in business or interior design, maybe both.

"You'd be surprised. There are sororities and fraternities for every type of personality, even yours."

Bella blanched and raised an eyebrow at Jessica's back-handed insult, but her high school friend seemed oblivious to the slight.

"So where are you living this year, then? Still in the dorms?" she continued.

"I'm in McMahon this year," Bella told her. "But I have a single, so at least I can get some studying done without having to go to the library all the time."

"Oh, that's cool. I'm living in the Grab-A-Thigh house this year with my sisters. It's gonna be so-o-o much fun, I can't even wait! Our house isn't that far from the north dorms, so maybe we'll see each other more often. Our dorms were clear across campus from each other last year," Jessica lamented, as if that had actually been a hardship for her. About a month into freshman year, she'd dropped Bella like a hot potato after pledging her sorority. Not that Bella had minded that much, since her friendship with Jessica had been strained ever since she'd been Mike Newton's choice for prom date senior year. Jess had kept her unrequited crush on Mike to herself, so how was Bella supposed to know that accepting his invitation would be such a blow?

She seemed to be reading Bella's thoughts right now about their high school classmate. "Did you know Mike transferred here this year?" she asked as she pulled her wallet out of her purse.

"Yeah, I saw him a couple of nights ago. He looked good. He seems to be really into the whole forestry thing," Bella commented as she swiped Jessica's student ID through the magnetic sensor on the register.

Jessica's eyes narrowed the minute Bella mentioned Mike's looks. "He does look good, doesn't he? I think it's all that fresh Arctic air, you know? Turns the boys into men."

"Yeah, I guess," Bella said with a shrug. "I think he just looks happy, like he knows what he wants to do with his life."

"Well, that too, obviously," Jess agreed, giving Bella a look like she was a simpleton. "Did you know he and his roommates are having a party tonight? He texted me this afternoon. Did he invite you, too?" She looked a little like she hoped the answer would be "no."

"I don't know, I haven't had a chance to check my phone since this morning."

"Oh, well, you should totally come anyway. I mean, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

"Yeah, that'd be fun," Bella said, rather unconvincingly.

"Great! So maybe I'll see you later, then?" Jessica's tone was equally insincere.

"Definitely. I'll stop by." She already knew it was the last thing she wanted to do after her eight-hour shift.

"Cool," Jessica gushed as she picked up her book bags. Just as she was about to leave, she stopped and turned back. "You know, I'm really glad to see you're doing okay after that whole debacle with Jacob Black at La Push. I told you at the beginning of the summer not to waste your time hanging out with a high school guy. I mean, how immature did he end up being? You had to be SO embarrassed at that party. I was, like, second-hand dying inside for you. But I'm sure you're totally over it now, right? Upward and onward!"

"Right." Bella could feel her smile twist bitterly, and she clamped her lips together to keep from telling her old friend what she thought of her advice and her fake condolences. Instead, she kept her tight-lipped smile intact and waved good-bye as Jessica took her book bags and thankfully left the building.

Her euphoric cloud slightly deflated, Bella switched to book-bagging for awhile and tried not to wonder what Edward was doing. It was nearing dinner time, and she imagined that he was now impeccably decked out in a suit and tie, hair moussed into disheveled perfection, escorting some unknown 28-year-old to her tenth class reunion. By the time the head cashier dismissed Bella for a half-hour dinner break, she was as cranky as the customers. She hoped some food would help.

As she stood in the bookstore café queue to order a sandwich, she dug her phone out of her backpack and checked for missed calls. She chuckled at the discovery of a text message from Mike, asking her to his dorm-warming party that night. But Bella's heart leapt with elation at the sight of another text from a brand-new but already well-known phone number.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she pressed the button to read Edward's message:

_Bella, sorry to bother you, but there's something missing from my day planner. Please give me a call when you get a chance. ~Edward_

It wasn't exactly the "I miss you already, I have to see you again" plea that she was hoping for, but under the circumstances, she'd take it. She wondered what on earth he could be talking about - something missing from his appointment book? The only thing she'd found was a pen, tucked inside the front cover. Other than that, it contained nothing but spiral-bound pages, and she certainly hadn't removed any of them, despite the brief urge she'd had to tear them to shreds and use them as kindling for a garbage can bonfire.

She was suddenly impatient for the line of people ahead of her to move so she could get her dinner, find a place to sit and call Edward back. The seven minutes it took to accomplish the feat felt like hours while she tapped her toe, crossed her arms, sighed and ruffled her hair repeatedly until it was her turn to order.

Cashew chicken croissant and soda in hand, she zoomed toward an empty corner table and pulled out her phone before she'd even bothered to unwrap her sandwich. Edward answered after two rings. His tone was warm and familiar, putting her at ease.

"Hey," he said. "Thanks for calling me back."

She heard him excuse himself from his date, telling her this was "an important call;" then the background noise of people milling around faded. She'd obviously interrupted some kind of class reunion cocktail hour.

"Of course I called you back," she told him. "But I don't understand your message. There was nothing in your day planner but a pen. What is it that's gone missing?"

He was silent for a beat, and her stomach tensed in apprehension. "You're sure you didn't see anything else? Could you check your backpack for me?"

"Sure," she agreed, reaching over and unzipping the nylon bag so she could rummage through its contents. "It would help if you could tell me exactly what I'm looking for."

"It's. . . kind of a bookmark." He sounded sheepish, though she couldn't comprehend why.

"A bookmark. Hmm, I'm not finding anything. What does it look like?"

"It's got a four-leaf clover on it." He was so quiet, she could barely hear him.

She shuffled through her wallet, a couple of paperback books, make-up, hair-bands, breath mints and sticky notes, but came up empty. "I'm sorry, I don't see anything like that."

He was silent again, and she could definitely feel the tension coming through the phone. She imagined the pensive look on his face as he let out a long breath.

"What about the purse you were carrying last weekend? Did you look in there?"

"No, but I haven't really cleaned it out since then. I'll dump it out as soon as I get back to the dorm tonight. Maybe your bookmark fell out and is buried there. It wouldn't be the first time that's happened. My purse is like a black hole - that's why I never use the thing," she told him, adding an encouraging laugh at the end.

"Okay. I'd appreciate that, thanks. Just let me know if you find it, okay?"

"Sure, of course." She was a little surprised that Edward was superstitious enough to get so worked up over the loss of a good-luck charm, but if that was his worst flaw, then she was lucky.

But of course, that wasn't his worst flaw. There was also the ugly fact that he frequently boned other women for money. She cringed at the thought.

"So how's the reunion going?" she asked, trying to keep the bitterness from her tone.

"Oh, it's going swimmingly," he replied in a slightly sardonic tone. His voice took on a nasal quality as he continued, "My name is Brock Lundquist and I'm a venture capitalist. Here, let me give you my card - oh, damn, I must have left them in my other jacket. I don't give financial tips outside the office, but give me your name and number and we can talk stocks sometime."

Bella couldn't help but laugh. "Seriously? You made up an alias for tonight?"

"Oh, no. I couldn't come up with that shit. My client did. It's not the first time. Reunions are the worst. I was an up-and-coming racecar driver at the last one, if you can imagine that."

"Wow. That's. . ." She couldn't come up with the appropriate response. "That sucks."

Edward laughed. "Yes. Yes, it does. On the upside, however, it's only 6:30 p.m. and my date is already drinking heavily and combing the place for her high school boyfriend. With any luck, she'll either hook up with him or pass out entirely before eleven so I can make my escape."

"Really?" Bella tried not to sound too desperately hopeful. "You think that could happen?"

They both knew what she was really asking. "Oh yeah, definitely," Edward assured her. "It wouldn't be the first time that's happened, either. Not that I encourage over-imbibing. But I don't police anyone, either. She's a big girl - she can make her own decisions."

"You'd do well to remember that," Bella reminded him, thinking of their conversation that morning.

"I'm trying," he said, and his tone told her he got her meaning.

"So am I," she answered sadly. She hated the thoughts flooding her head right now. What did Edward's date look like? Was she at all attractive? Did she want to sleep with him? Maybe she wasn't interested in sex, since apparently she'd hired him primarily to make her old boyfriend jealous. But once she spent some time with him, how could she NOT want to sleep with him? Edward was too sexy for his own good, and no one knew this better than Bella.

The irony was cold comfort. She could only pray that he was right, and the woman would be too sloshed for sex later on. But she had her doubts about that.

"I should go," he said, sounding regretful.

"Yeah. Me, too." Her regret was equal to his. "I'll call you later if I find your bookmark."

"Thanks. Call me either way, okay? I'd welcome the distraction."

She smiled a little at that. "I will."

She glanced at her watch as she hung up the phone - two more hours until she was officially done for the day and could go back to the dorm. She was dying to dig through her purse to see if she had the item Edward was looking for. She hoped to God she did, for it would be another guarantee that she would see him again soon.

The minutes dragged, but eventually one-hundred and twenty of them had passed, and her manager told her to clock out for the night. She raced back to the tiny space she called "home" as fast as her rusty old truck would allow, then made a beeline for her closet to retrieve the bottomless pit she called a purse. She dumped its contents onto on her bed and began combing through the debris for buried treasure.

It didn't take long to spot what she was looking for. It stood out like a sore thumb from the pile of old receipts and gum wrappers. Edward's four-leaf clover was not some simple dried specimen glued to a piece of cardboard. Instead, it was carefully affixed to the lower right corner of a heavy, oblong piece of watercolor paper with artfully frayed edges. The now-faded clover was meant to be the foreground object in a beautiful miniature painting of a sunny meadow landscape. Fascinated, Bella examined the exquisite rendering of the scene: broad washes of watercolor created the background, while meticulous details were added later in much smaller brushwork. A field of green, dotted with clover and other wildflowers, led to an ornate bridge over a placid stream, which was painted to mirror the gold and azure sky above.

And on that celestial background was written a poem, in small, elegant calligraphy:

_I know a place where the sun is like gold,  
><em>_And the cherry blooms burst with snow,  
><em>_And down underneath is the loveliest nook,  
><em>_Where the four-leaf clovers grow.  
><em>_One leaf is for hope, and one is for faith,  
><em>_And one is for love, you know,  
><em>_And God put another in for luck—  
><em>_If you search, you will find where they grow.  
><em>_But you must have hope, and you must have faith,  
><em>_You must love and be strong – and so—  
><em>_If you work, if you wait, you will find the place  
><em>_Where the four-leaf clovers grow. *_

Bella stared at the art piece in her hand with a mixture of surprise and heartache. What a strange thing for a grown man to be carrying around with him. There was no denying how beautiful the artwork was, and though the poem was a bit old-fashioned and syrupy, the message itself was lovely. Obviously this "bookmark," as he'd referred to it, had some significance to him, or he wouldn't have sounded so anxious to have it back. She peered at the paper for clues, and finally found her answer. Down in one corner, nearly buried in a sea of watercolor clover, was a tiny signature:

_~E. Masen_

And suddenly, it all made sense. His grandmother must have painted this - perhaps she'd even written the poem. As family heirlooms went, this was a keeper. No wonder he'd been so upset to think it was lost.

Bella reached for her backpack and dug out her cell phone. She deliberated: call, or text? He did say he'd welcome the interruption, but she was afraid of what she might interrupt. The phone read 8:30 p.m. Surely they wouldn't be doing much but chatting or dancing, or playing some lame "remember when?" game.

The phone rang several times before going to voicemail. Disappointed, Bella left a short message. "You're in luck - literally. I found your four-leaf clover. Why didn't you tell me it was a painting by your grandmother? It's really beautiful. Anyway, I have it, so just let me know if you want to meet somewhere again so I can give it back to you."

She hung up, feeling oddly rejected, even though it was probably just too noisy for Edward to hear his phone. Her heart sank as she realized that this was how most nights would be if she were to get involved with him. Wondering what he was doing, and with whom. Trying to swallow the inevitable backwash of bile when she thought back to what her night with him entailed, knowing that sort of intimacy might be on the menu again tonight, for some other girl.

There was nothing she could do about it now. Nothing except get the hell out of this tiny, claustrophobic room before she drove herself crazy. Suddenly, Mike's party suddenly didn't sound like such a bad idea after all.

Bella checked his text message again for the room number, then went to the closet to find something suitable to wear to get mind-numbingly drunk at a dorm party on a Friday night.

_* "Four-Leaf Clover" by Ella Higginson, 1861 - 1940_

* * *

><p><strong>As always, thank you all so much for the wonderful feedback. I read every review and appreciate your support more than you know. Maybe when Rob gets done with all of his Cosmopolis promotion, I'll stop spending so much time on blogs and answer all your wonderful comments! What can I say? The boy owns me. ;-)<strong>


	22. Chapter 22

**I'll preface this chapter by saying that although I've never been anywhere near the UW dorms, I'm reasonably sure that their Resident Advisors don't condone or allow the kind of behavior I've written here. At least, not if they want to remain RA's. But that's why this is fiction.**

**Not sure why I switched it up and wrote this chapter in present tense. It just seemed to fit.**

* * *

><p>"See that guy over there?"<p>

Sylvia Wainwright is slurring and trying to point somewhere across the hotel ballroom, but her index finger keeps changing directions so that Edward has no hope of following its suggested path.

"Over where?"

She draws loops in the air. "That table over there. Two over, three back. Black hair, black suit, black shirt, black tie."

"Is he a bank robber?"

"Ha! Possibly. I don't give a fuck, I still want him. He's the one I told you 'bout - the one who got away. 'Cept Amy Wisenbaum just told me at the topless bar that he and his girlfriend are having problems. I'm not surprised - look how slutty she's dressed. She looks like a goddamn hooker. Sorry, no offense."

"None taken," Edward says with a brittle smile.

"Yeah well, she's toast. The minute she goes to the bathroom, I'm makin' my move."

"Good for you. So where's the topless bar? I wasn't aware this hotel had one."

"Huh? Oh! _Tapas_ bar. I said tapas. You know, hors d'oeuvres?" She gives him a look indicating that he must be a total moron. "The snack table," she elaborates with a roll of her eyes. "Are you sure you've done this escort thing before? I mean, I knew you were young, but come on."

Edward feigns an apology. "I'm sorry if I've fallen short of your expectations."

Sylvia's green eyes roll once more, and she has trouble making them focus once they return to their normal position. "You've been fine. Better than fine. You look amazing. Like fuckin' sex on a stick. The look on that bitch Heather Mears' face when she saw me walk in the room with you was worth every penny. Now, just don't cramp my style when I go talk to David, and there'll be a very nice tip in it for you later."

"David. . . ?"

"The bank robber." She looks over at her former paramour, and Edward thinks he's detected a bit of drool glistening at the corner of her mouth. "You're pretty 'n' all, and you definitely did the job here tonight, but THAT, right there, is a real man. Damn if he doesn't look hot as hell dressed all in black," she sighs.

Edward glances over at swarthy, hirsute David in his too-tight suit and thinks that the man vaguely resembles a gorilla stuffed into a sausage casing. "I wouldn't even attempt to compete," he assures his date with a sweet smile.

"You're a smart boy after all," she says condescendingly. With effort, she shifts her gaze back to the gorilla, and comprehends that the chair next to him is empty.

"Holy shit, now's my chance," she exclaims, pushing up from the table and swaying a bit. "Wish me luck!"

"Good luck," Edward replies dutifully. He winces as she grabs at the edge of her panties through her loud polyester dress in order to pull them out of her butt crack, then wobbles away on her platform stilettos.

He breathes a sigh of relief and immediately searches for his phone to see if Bella has called, even though he hasn't felt its telltale buzz through the breast pocket of his jacket. He's relieved when he sees her number and realizes that he forgot to put the phone on vibrate after he turned off the ringer. He's even more relieved when he hears her message.

He glances over at Sylvia, whose ironed blonde head is bowed close to the gorilla's, and he figures he can slip away unnoticed for a few minutes. He leaves the hotel ballroom and finds an exit to the outdoor courtyard with better phone reception, then speed-dials Bella's number.

# # # # # # # # # #

The music is so loud that Bella's entire body is vibrating.

She's hollered at Mike to inquire what the Resident Advisor thinks about this, but he hollers back that "he's totally cool with it." He then points to a guy lounging in one corner of the room, nursing a bottle of Fat Tire and a laissez-faire attitude. Bella shrugs and accepts the requisite red plastic cup filled with jungle juice. She takes a sip - hmm, not bad - and decides she's ready to drink the Kool-Aid.

The music is good - sounds like The Black Keys, she thinks. It's not some club-style techno-crap, so she decides to chill and enjoy it. Besides, this saves her from having to make too much small talk, which she's not very good at. She can simply smile and nod at Mike's new roommates, to whom she was just introduced, but their names were indecipherable above the din. And then Mike is off, playing the host with the most, chatting up each new stranger as if he or she was his long-lost friend. Bella has always envied his ability to do this. He is clearly in his element in this kind of social setting, while she still flounders like a fish out of water.

Like most dorm parties, the festivities have spilled out into the hallway and over to the next room. Bella wanders into the hall, looking around for Jessica, or anyone else she might know. She wonders why she didn't make any lasting friends freshman year. She'd been so worried about keeping her grades up that she spent most of her time studying. Over the summer she'd lost touch with the few girls she'd befriended, and now it felt a little like she was starting over this year.

But that was what she wanted, wasn't it? A clean slate? A do-over? That's what her night with an escort was supposed to be about - doing something daring and out of character, something completely out of her comfort zone. That's what she thought she'd needed: a chance to break free from her shy, self-conscious mold and emerge as someone with the bold confidence of experience.

Someone new.

But as she looks around at the girls wearing too much make-up and too little clothing, she can't help but feel that this is not who she wants to be, either. Maybe she just isn't cut from free and fun-loving cloth. But this is a depressing thought, so she props the corners of her mouth into what she hopes is a friendly grin and tiptoes around the bodies of people sprawled across the hallway, trying to carry on conversations not possible inside the rooms. She is managing all right, she thinks, until her sneaker catches on the toe of the last body, causing her to trip and fall forward.

"Shit!" she exclaims, trying to catch herself on the closest white plaster wall. But there is another body in the way, this one walking toward her, so that her hand hits his chest and propels him backward. Like dominoes they fall to the dull industrial carpet below, Bella trying to keep a grip on her red plastic cup, but failing most spectacularly.

"I am so sorry," she apologizes, still on all fours, staring down at the empty cup in front of her. She is afraid to look sideways at her victim and survey the damage, but she cringes and shifts wary eyes to the form lying next to her. Sure enough, his t-shirt - vintage Beastie Boys - is doused with bright red jungle juice.

"Oh my God," she moans, sitting back on her haunches, defeated. "I can't believe I did that."

Her victim slowly pulls himself up to a sitting position and looks down, gingerly pulling the sticky wet cotton away from his skin. He looks up at her ruefully and manages a tight smile. "It's okay. I'm sure it'll come out."

Bella looks at him, and he at her. They both know it will not come out.

"I'll buy you a new one," she offers. "It's the least I can do."

He grins more affably than the occasion warrants and says, "I don't think you'll find one. But if you do, let me know."

"Yeah, right." She gives him a look that she hopes conveys her distress over the situation.

"Don't worry," he says. "It just gives the shirt character."

She shakes her head. "You are being way too nice about this. Go ahead and yell at me."

"Will it make you feel better if I do?"

"Probably."

"Then, goddamn it, watch where you're going next time, will you?" he answers with mock severity.

"That was not yelling," she says with a laugh.

He shrugs and the good-natured grin returns. "I have a hard time being mean to pretty girls."

Bella blushes, then realizes for the first time that her victim is rather nice-looking. Blue eyes, light brown hair, toothy smile. She is being complimented by a cute boy only ten minutes after arriving at a college party. Maybe things are changing for her after all, despite the fact that she is obviously still as clumsy and awkward as ever.

"At least let me try to get the stain out of your shirt," Bella offers guiltily. "Maybe if you wash it right away, it'll come out."

"Maybe," he agrees. "My room is right down the hall. You want to come with me and find out?"

Bella sees that he is pointing only a few doors down, within easy distance of the party, so she throws caution to the wind and follows him to his room. When he opens the door, a wall of pungent-smelling smoke hits them both in the face.

"Whoa!" he comments as he carves a path through the haze. "Don't smoke the whole stash at once, you guys."

Bella hesitates in the doorway, but her victim pulls her gently into the room and closes the door behind her. "Our RA is cool, but I'd still rather keep certain activities on the DL, if you know what I mean," he explains.

She nods and peers into the smoke while he introduces a small group of people sitting in a circle, passing around a colorful glass bong that looks like something her mom might have used during her much wilder youth. Bella forgets their names as soon as she hears them, but she remembers her victim's name.

It is Riley Biers, and he has taken off his t-shirt in order to scrub it out in the sink. He has a nice body. She tries not to stare, but it's difficult because he is smooth and hairless and carved nicely in all the right places. His build is lean, not terribly tall, but still well-put together. She would be attracted to him, she thinks, except for one thing.

He is not Edward Cullen.

Riley is smiling at her and commenting that he thinks the stain is actually coming out of his t-shirt, and she's glad. But she is now imagining how Edward looks standing at a sink: taller and broader in the shoulders, stronger chin and sultrier eyes. Hairier, muskier. More manly. She resents him a little for ruining this for her, this first time that a very cute college boy has taken his shirt off for her two minutes after they met. Worse yet, she resents Riley for not being someone else.

Riley is oblivious to this, of course, and is chattering about his major as he wrings out his shirt and fishes a hanger out of his closet to hang the wet garment up to dry. He pulls a clean t-shirt off the closet shelf, this one proclaiming Bob Marley's Exodus; and Bella realizes she's already forgotten Riley's major.

"So," he says as he pushes his head through the neck hole, "you wanna get baked?"

He nods his head toward the circle of potheads taking turns holding their breath before exhaling in satisfaction. Bella has always avoided drugs, even weed, because she worries they will make her do stupid things, and with her luck she will no doubt get caught and expelled from school and possibly thrown in jail.

She presses her lips together and sets her chin defiantly. After all, her luck has been changing.

"Absolutely," she says, and joins him in the circle.

# # # # # # # # # #

"Where are you, Bella?" Edward mumbles into the phone, his tone equal parts worry and annoyance. She will not hear this because he has already hung up, and the message he did leave her was decidedly more upbeat than he was feeling. His relief that she'd found his good-luck charm was lessened when he was unable to thank her and make plans to see her again. He realizes that it is entirely unreasonable of him to expect her to be waiting around for his call. She is a teenager and it's Friday night. He did tell her she should be having the college experience and enjoying herself. And she should.

But he can't help but wish she were enjoying herself with him instead.

Edward is not enjoying himself at all, though he is admittedly grateful that his date has no interest in him other than using him to get the man she really wants. He wishes this were the _modus operandi _of all of his clients. But he knows his luck will not hold for much longer.

As if on cue, there is a commotion behind him on the courtyard. The glass door has opened and the low hiss of an argument meets his ears. He can guess what he will see before he slowly, unwillingly turns around.

"You had your chance a long time ago, remember? I'm the one who wrote and called you every goddamned day when we went to two different colleges. You're the one who chose to step out on me with a dozen other guys instead. You made your bed - lots of beds, from what I hear. Now go fucking lie in them. Or lie in them fucking, as the case may be."

They have stopped under the nearest tree and stand facing each other in the ambient outdoor lighting, oblivious to Edward's presence. The gorilla is clearly angry, sneering in the imploring face of his ex-girlfriend. Sylvia begins a drunken rebuttal that is half pleading, half self-righteous.

"I was young! I was lonely, and you were clear across the country. I didn't know what I wanted," she wails. "Besides, you expect me to believe you were faithful that whole time? That's bullshit. I know it is. Does the name Heather-fucking-Mears ring a bell? Huh? You could have had anyone, but you had to go and bang my high school nemesis instead?"

"Well, at least she was there for me when I lost my football scholarship and had to go home with my goddamned tail between my legs. You didn't give a flying fuck. You didn't even call me - you sent me a lame-ass email instead. That hurt, Syl. As close as we were. . . that was low."

The gorilla looks wounded now, and Syl is ashamed. "Oh baby, I know. I know. I was such an idiot. I didn't know what to say to you after all that had gone down between us. I knew how much that killed you, losing that scholarship. I came home that next weekend to see you, but Heather had already beat me to the punch. I stopped by your house and your brother told me you were out with her."

"What? He never told me you were there!"

"I made him promise not to tell you. I was so upset with you for turning to her that I didn't want to give you the satisfaction of knowing I cared. But I always did. I still do."

She is sniveling; Edward can see that her mascara is beginning to bleed out around the edges of her eyes so that she resembles an ancient Egyptian painting. The gorilla's expression is mawkishly contrite, and Edward realizes that he must be as drunk as Sylvia.

"Oh, baby," is all the eloquence he can muster before he mauls her with a kiss. She returns it with fervor, trying to get a grip on his greased hair while he crushes her to him and paws her ass.

Edward averts his eyes, amused and relieved at this turn of events, but not wishing to witness this particular reunion any further. He takes a sip of his martini and decides he will discreetly make his way back inside the hotel, but as he nears the door, an attractive brunette in a cleavage-revealing dress strides purposefully through it. She looks around until she spots the couple groping under a tree. Her face screws up in anger and she marches toward them.

"What. The FUCK. Is going on here?" she demands.

As soon as the gorilla extricates himself from Sylvia and turns a guilty face toward his accuser, the brunette hauls off and slaps him right across one thick, stubbly cheek.

Edward changes his mind and looks around for a place to sit. He finds a nearby stone bench, then settles in with his martini to watch the fireworks.

# # # # # # # # # #

Bella cannot stop giggling.

She is very, very relaxed. She can't remember the last time she felt this sort of happy, somnambulant buzz. She could get used to this. She looks over at Riley, and the rest of his roomies and girlfriends, and they all look as buzzed as she feels. They are cool people, she thinks. They have all just finished a highly philosophical and profound discussion about politics and global warming, though she can't remember exactly what was said. She's pretty sure it was deep, though.

But the weed has run out, and they are hungry. A search of their room reveals it to be bereft of munchies, so they journey out in search of food.

"I think Mike has snacks in his room," Bella offers helpfully. "And some killer Everclear punch."

They eagerly follow Bella down the hall to the heart of the festivities, where they gratefully scavenge a brand-new bag of tortilla chips and begin passing it around. As she's munching, she looks around in search of Mike. She spots him across the room, sitting on the bottom bunk bed, talking with Jessica. She feels no animosity toward her old frenemy how, and she waves a chip at them both, while Riley asks her, "Who are they?"

She realizes that someone must have turned the volume of the sound system down, because she can actually hear him above the dull roar.

"Old high school friends," she replies. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

Riley follows Bella to the bunk bed, where her pals look up at her in blatant surprise. She introduces them all, and is very proud of the fact that she has remembered everyone's full names, even Riley's. They all nod and smile in greeting, though the pair who are high are mostly oblivious to the incredulous stares from the pair who are not.

"Good to meet you," Mike says, rising from the bunk and giving Riley a slap on the arm. "So you live down the hall, huh?"

Riley nods. "Neighbors. Thanks for having the party, man. It's nice to get to know everyone on the hall."

"Yeah, of course," Mike agrees. "You guys want something to drink? Jess, you need a refill?"

Jessica hands Mike her nearly-empty cup. "Yeah, thanks."

Mike looks at Riley and motions across the room to the cooler and the plastic-lined garbage can filled with spiked punch. As soon as they leave the girls alone, Jessica grabs Bella's wrist and pulls her down to the bunk bed.

"Ohmygod! Are you stoned?" she demands.

"Um. . ." Bella stops to think a moment, and then realizes that she most certainly is. "Yeah. Very." She giggles a little at the acknowledgement.

"No way!" Jess exclaims, as if the evidence and accompanying confession still aren't enough proof. "I didn't know you smoked pot."

"Neither did I." Bella punctuates this with a giggle-snort.

"That Riley guy is cute! Does he have any more stash on him?" Jess asks hopefully.

"No, they ran out." Bella waves in the general direction of the group now inhaling most of the snacks sitting atop Mike's desk.

"Damn. Must have been some good shit, from the looks of you."

"I feel good," Bella admits. She suddenly realizes that the pot worked - she actually forgot about Edward for a little while. But now that she has thought of him, and looked at her watch, she is beginning to wonder and worry about him, despite the marijuana's calming effect on her nervous system.

She's grateful when Mike returns with her punch. She is thirsty, but mostly she's anxious for something else to help obliterate thoughts of what Edward might be doing right now. She chugs down half the glass in a few hasty gulps.

"Whoa, slow down there, slugger!" Mike warns her, his blue eyes round with concern. "It's early - better pace yourself."

Bella scowls, and Riley laughs.

"She's a big girl. She can take care of herself," the latter says, giving Bella an encouraging squeeze on the shoulder.

"That's right," she agrees. Didn't she just say the same thing to Edward earlier? And he'd given her that same disapproving stare that Mike is leveling at her right now.

She grimaces and drains the rest of her cup, then shoots him a defiant look.

"I'm ready for a refill," she announces, handing Riley her glass. He chuckles and trots off to the juice-filled garbage can, while Mike and Jessica gape at her like she's an alien.

She smiles with satisfaction and waits for Riley to return with her next cup of oblivion.

# # # # # # # # # #

"What the hell?" the gorilla sputters after his girlfriend's assault.

"You keep your filthy hands off of him!" Sylvia screeches at the brunette.

"You're a fine one to talk!" she snaps back. "The minute I turn my back, you mack on my man? Where the hell do you get off?" She is squared off across from Sylvia, hands on her hips, barely-covered boobs heaving with indignation.

"He was my man way before he was yours," Sylvia declares. "If you know what's good for you, you'll step off before I really get pissed."

"Me, piss _you_ off? Are you effing kidding me?" Cleavage-girl turns to the gorilla. "And you! I leave you for five minutes and you go off with the first woman who throws herself at you? _This_ is what I mean to you?"

"Give it up, Monica," the gorilla says wearily. "You can drop the act. The jig is up, okay? It worked. You're off the hook. Off the clock. Whatever you want to call it." He adds to her as an aside, "You _hit_ me, for chrissakes! That was not part of our agreement."

Sylvia's brows furrow. "What are you talking about, David? 'Off the clock?'"

The gorilla's mug is sheepish. "Monica isn't really my girlfriend. She's just pretending."

Monica gives him a warning look, like he's made a mistake, admitting this.

Sylvia's eyes narrow. "Pretending," she repeats. "And why would she do that?"

The gorilla hangs his head. "Because I paid her to. To make you jealous."

Sylvia stares at him, then abruptly bursts into laughter. "No wonder she looks like a hooker!" she gasps between giggles, then turns to an annoyed Monica and adds, "No offense."

"Go ahead and laugh," the gorilla retorts. "It worked, didn't it?"

"Yep. It did," she agrees, still grinning. "I'm just laughing 'cause great minds think alike, baby. You know that guy I came here with? Brick?"

"I thought you said his name was Brock."

"Yeah, whatever. His real name is Edward."

"The pretty boy? Yeah, that fits. He doesn't seem like your type."

"He's not. But he _is_ Heather's type. And you should have seen her face when I walked in with him. She's been eating her fucking heart out all night. Just retribution, if you ask me."

"So, wait. You're saying you hired him, too?" The gorilla is equal parts incredulous and elated.

Sylvia nods, and the two share a kind of conspiratorial shame over their actions.

Monica pipes up then. "Isn't that him, over there?" She points at Edward, and they all turn to look at him where he lounges on the bench some feet away. He grins and raises his glass.

"Shit. You've been out there this whole time?" Sylvia exclaims. "Why didn't you say something?"

Edward shrugs. "It seemed rude to interrupt."

Sylvia rolls her eyes, Monica laughs, and David looks him over with an air of judgmental superiority. Edward rises from the bench and goes to introduce himself, and they all indulge in a phony sitcom-style laugh over the zany antics of the evening. The gorilla and Sylvia finally thank their paid escorts, bid them good-night and go back to the party.

Monica and her cleavage turn to Edward, eyeballing him appreciatively. "Well, the night is young and our work here is done. Wanna get a drink?"

Edward's smile is polite, but thin. "Thanks for the offer, but I have something I need to take care of." He pulls his phone out of his jacket and waves it in explanation.

Monica shrugs and tells him she'll be at the bar, if he's interested. Edward checks for messages, then frowns because there are none. He speed-dials the same number again and mutters anxiously under his breath.

"Come on, Bella. Answer me."

# # # # # # # # # #

Bella has never been the life of the party before. But apparently Pot +190-Proof Grain Alcohol = A Very Funny Bella, because she has just told some silly story that has everyone laughing. This is fun, she thinks. But she wishes she could remember exactly what she said.

"I think you should switch to water or soda for awhile," she hears Jessica say in her ear, though she is having trouble focusing on her.

"Good idea," Mike chimes in, then disappears, ostensibly to get something innocuous for her to drink. He appears very shortly, red cup in hand, but this time it contains only water. He and Jess encourage her to drink all of it down, though she is feeling very full.

"I have to pee," she announces afterward.

"I'll go with you." Jess takes her arm and helps her up, and she is surprised at how difficult it is to simply walk a straight path through the room and down the hall to the community bathroom. She has the same trouble once she is in the stall. The toilet-paper roll has taken on a strangely vivid and surreal appearance as she yanks on the paper and watches it unfurl like a party streamer in her hand.

"You are so funny when you're drunk," she hears Jessica's disembodied voice float from under the adjoining stall. "Like I'm so sure that you hired an escort to take your virginity. Where did you come up with that one?"

Bella's stomach turns violently. "_What? _What are you talking about?"

"That story you just told about giving up on guys our age and hooking up with a male prostitute instead. That was hilarious. You made that fantasy guy sound really hot, though. I don't blame you for wanting to make up a perfect first time. God knows my first time last year with a drunk guy in a frat house was anything but."

Bella has just enough sobriety left in her to be horrified. How could she have blurted out something, _anything_, about her night with Edward? - the most cherished, and _private_, night of her life thus far. She cringes and rubs her face in her hands, wondering how much she revealed. At least no one seemed to take her seriously, right?

"Are you okay in there?" Jessica's voice is now further away, near the sinks. Bella hears water running, then towels being yanked from the dispenser. "I can hold your hair if you're going to barf."

"No, I'm fine," Bella lies. She stands up and thinks that maybe she will turn around and hurl, but then the feeling subsides.

She makes her way to the sinks while Jessica shakes her head sympathetically in the mirror.

"You are going to be so sick tomorrow. It'd be better if you'd just puke up some of that punch right now."

"I'm fine," Bella insists with a scowl, drying her hands.

"Okay, whatever. You need to drink more water, though. Let's get you another glass, okay?"

Bella nods and begins to follow Jess out the bathroom door when she hears a tinny, musical sound.

"My ears are ringing," she laments.

Jess rolls her eyes. "I think it's your phone."

"Oh." Bella stops to think where she has left her phone, then remembers that she always puts it in her back pocket when she doesn't carry a purse. She fishes it out and looks at the number, and her stomach reacts once more.

"Edward?" she answers tentatively.

"Bella! Thank God. I've been worried about you. Why haven't you answered my messages? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm great," she says, trying very hard to sound normal, though right now she's not sure what that sounds like. "I'm sorry, I'm at this really noisy party. Is everything okay?"

"I don't know. You tell me. You sound weird. Are you drunk?"

"Yeah, just a little," she lies. "I'm drinking water now. I'll be fine."

"Where are you?"

"Just at a dorm party. Remember, you said I should be going to those, right?"

"Which dorm?"

"McCarty. It's right across from my dorm, McMahon. It's no big deal. I'll make it home fine, if that's what you're worried about. Mike will probably walk me there if I ask him."

"Who's Mike?"

She's not sure, but it sounds like Edward's voice is growing more strained with every question he fires at her.

"My high school boyfriend. He just transferred here this year so he threw a dorm-warming party. Dorm-warming. . . Damn, that's hard to say. Try to say that five times fast!" she exclaims with a giggle.

"Don't go anywhere. I'll be there in fifteen minutes," he orders.

A thrill shoots through her despite the heaviness she feels in her bones. "You don't have to do that, Edward. I'll just go home and sleep it off. Edward. . . ?"

She listens for his reply, but he is already gone.

# # # # # # # # # #

Edward is trying not to panic. It does no good to panic. But Bella didn't sound merely drunk. He is positive she's ingested something else, and he's determined to find out what it is. If one of those idiots dared to slip anything into her drink. . .

He hurries through the hotel with as much grace as he can muster, calling ahead to the front desk to bring his car around. He is shanghaied briefly by the amorous attentions of Heather Mears on his way past the ballroom, but he begs off as politely as he can under the circumstances and races to the lobby.

He is seething as he drives. He knows the UW campus well enough, having been to a couple of parties in the vicinity before; and he accompanied Alice for orientation last year. Parking will probably be a bitch, but he'll figure something out. He won't rest until he sees for himself that Bella is okay.

He hopes he's overreacting, and she's just imbibed too much. He suspects she might be stoned too. He hopes that's all it is. He can't consider the more harrowing possibilities.

He's angry that Bella's friends have let her get so wasted, but he knows his irritation goes further than that. In truth, he's mad at himself for letting her turn his world upside down in the space of one measly week. And he's pissed at her for making him care so much.

He's still not sure how she did it. Why her? What's so special about her? She's pretty, but no bombshell. Smart, but infuriatingly naïve and foolish at the same time. She's reckless. Immature. She will be nothing but trouble for him.

But she sees into his soul like no one ever has before. And he sees hers. Pure, good. Untainted.

Yet he still thinks to himself, _This is crazy,_ as he pulls into a public parking garage near campus._ She's making me nuts, showing up at a college party still dressed in a suit, like some lame, overprotective older brother come to drag her away from her no-good hoodlum friends._

"You're a fucking idiot," he mutters aloud to himself as he strides out of the parking ramp, loosening his tie and removing his jacket as he goes. But he rolls up his sleeves and keeps on walking, following the signs to McCarty residence hall.

# # # # # # # # # #

Bella is sleepy now.

_I'll just lie down a minute,_ she thinks, so she weaves down the hall, back to Mike's room. She climbs into his unoccupied bunk bed and rests her head on the pillow. This is the last thing she remembers, until she hears loud voices shouting into her face to wake up. Hands are grabbing at her, pulling her out of the bed. She protests feebly, telling them that she just wants to sleep now. But she hears Mike's voice, closer than the others, saying that he's going to walk her home now so she can sleep in her own bed.

She woozily agrees that this is a good idea, and she feels herself propped up by warm hands and arms on both sides. She is able to focus enough to see that Riley is helping Mike, and they have a firm grip on her as they pull her to her feet.

The room spins, and she thinks she might be sick; but then everything steadies, and she feels better now. They ask if she is able to walk, and she scoffs, "Of course!" Her feet don't want to cooperate at first, but they eventually find a rhythm with Mike's and Riley's, and the three make their way to the elevator. Once inside, she sags against the wall and closes her eyes. Her stomach lurches upward as the elevator descends, but once it opens to the first floor, everything settles again, and she's good to go, she thinks.

She feels better when they are outside in the cool night air. She is able to walk pretty well on her own then, rather than being dragged or carried by the boys on either side of her. She's getting her bearings, though she still feels strange. She hears Mike mumble worriedly about the campus police. Riley replies that he thinks they won't get busted as long as they keep Bella walking a straight line.

She's vaguely offended by this, but too tired to protest. Instead, she gamely allows them to guide her down the sidewalk. They're just about to take a short-cut across the grass when she hears it.

"Bella?"

_Honey. Molasses_. Her name sounds as sweet as syrup, ringing clear as a bell through her drunken stupor. A relief so profound and complete washes through her that she feels as though she might collapse.

"Edward," she manages to slur. She looks over, and there he is, approaching with the grim determination of a knight in shining armor.

"Do you know this guy?" Mike asks her warily.

Bella can only nod and grin stupidly.

"Is this your brother?" Riley asks worriedly, looking up into Edward's snarling countenance.

"She's an only child," Mike informs him.

"He's my broker," Bella says with a grin.

Edward's face relaxes slightly, and he manages a twisted half-grin at her in return.

"I'm a friend," he tells the two college boys. "I'm here to take Bella safely back to her room."

Mike still looks distrustful. "I'm her friend, too. And we were doing just fine getting her home."

"Some friend," Edward shoots back. "I think you've done enough already." His venom hits the mark, and Mike shrinks back slightly.

"Bella, do you want to come with me?" Edward asks, holding out his hand.

She works hard to focus both of her eyeballs on that beautiful, long-fingered hand, and she remembers the first time he held it out to her. He made everything okay then, and he will now.

"Yes," she says, with as much conviction as she can muster.

She reaches for his hand, and he grabs hers tightly. He pulls her away from the two boys, who let go with reluctance. She takes a couple of stumbling steps forward as he grips her shoulder firmly with his other hand. She smiles up into Edward's severe features, made even more striking by his glower of concern for her under the moon's rays.

"My dragon slayer," she murmurs.

And then, the bile finally rises and she is sick, all over Edward's shoes.

* * *

><p><strong>A big thank-you to whoever rec'd The Agreement on one of the Facebook forums this week! I wish I could have read it, but I'm a closeted fic writer so I don't use my FB account for anything Twi- or fic-related. You can find me incognito on Twitter, though. :-)<strong>

**As always, thanks to everyone still reading and reviewing - I appreciate your support so very much. I fear I may have lost some of you due to the recent lack of citrus, but I can assure you that the drought will end in the near future. ;-)**


	23. Chapter 23

**Gotta give Robert Pattinson a nod this week for his infamous Twilight ad-lib. I stole, er, borrowed it freely in this chapter.**

* * *

><p><em>The Search For Me<em>

_I have an idea plaguing me-_  
><em>A notion of the ideal "me"<em>  
><em>Found in some idyllic place<em>  
><em>Lost in your idyllic face.<em>  
><em>Why do I think you hold the key<em>  
><em>To the new and improved me?<em>

_The sage would tell me, look within_  
><em>And give myself a different spin.<em>  
><em>But I've taken myself for a drive<em>  
><em>And still I haven't yet arrived<em>  
><em>At the place I want to be<em>  
><em>Living in that brand new "me."<em>

_I view your two-dimensional face_  
><em>And see much deeper than that space<em>  
><em>I know that you will fill my need<em>  
><em>And plant the seed<em>  
><em>That hunger feeds<em>  
><em>Driving me down to my knees<em>  
><em>And ridding me of my disease.<em>

_Fill me, change me-_  
><em>Make me whole.<em>  
><em>Cast me in a brand-new role.<em>  
><em>Shed me in a different light,<em>  
><em>Let me see through your insight.<em>

_This is my unspoken plea_  
><em>When I meet you in 3-D.<em>  
><em>You take my hand and lead me there<em>  
><em>Open me and lay me bare<em>  
><em>Make me leave my search behind<em>  
><em>And look instead within to find<em>  
><em>The "me" that's lived here all the while<em>  
><em>Revealed in your divining smile.<em>

_I lie and gaze into the green_  
><em>And realize how wrong I've been.<em>  
><em>I see my reflection in your eyes<em>  
><em>And know the folly of my lies-<em>  
><em>The foolish tales I told myself<em>  
><em>To protect me, hidden on my shelf.<em>

_I only need now to be brave_  
><em>And give in to the thing I crave-<em>  
><em>To let you see imperfect me<em>  
><em>And find the beauty I can't see.<em>

_Suddenly I know what's true-_  
><em>I see the "me" who touches you.<em>  
><em>The me who makes you sigh and come<em>  
><em>The me who makes you come undone.<em>  
><em>I like the "me" I am with you.<em>  
><em>Surprisingly, you like her, too.<em>

_You like the "you" you are with me-_  
><em>We bring each other clarity.<em>  
><em>There is no room for falsity<em>  
><em>Amid such naked honesty.<em>  
><em>In you I found much more than "me"<em>  
><em>And you discovered more than "he."<em>  
><em>It took one fateful night to see<em>  
><em>The pronoun trumping all is<em>

_"We."_

Edward sat at Bella's desk, reading the poem again. He'd already read it several times this morning, having given up on the notion of sleep after a long, restless night. Every time he did, the words stabbed again, in different places, each more sensitive than the last. As poetry went, he didn't think it was half bad, though he didn't know much about that particular mode of expression. He didn't really care if it was good or not. It was about him - about them. It made him ache inside again, stirring up those same maddening, bittersweet feelings he'd fought all week. After his fifth time studying the poem, he thought it might be the most beautiful thing he'd ever read.

Bella thought otherwise. At the bottom of the page, she'd written:

_Geez, Swan. Rhyme much? You sound like friggin' Dr. Seuss. Give up and go make some green eggs and ham, Swan-I-Am._

Every time he read this, Edward chuckled. Then he'd look over at Bella's pale, shiny face as she sweated out last night's poisons in her sleep, and he wanted to shake her and tell her how fucking amazing she was, and ask her why she didn't get that. Why had she looked for validation in him, of all people? And more incredible, how was it that she seemed to have found it in him?

He thought back to that evening one week ago and tried to remember exactly what he'd said or done that made such an impression on her; that bolstered her fragile ego enough to make her write these words about their fateful meeting. Her inability to view herself clearly had frustrated him from the start. He had only spoken the truth; made her try to see what was real instead of imagined.

And now she imagined they were a couple.

Were they?

He had certainly behaved like a jealous boyfriend last night, coming to her aid like some demented knight in rumpled suit clothes. He wasn't sorry he'd come. He didn't trust those two idiot college boys as far as he could throw them. They were equally suspicious of him, but thankfully he seemed to intimidate them a bit. His tall stature and ability to give a menacing glare from under heavy brows had gotten him out of fights a few times before. Back then, he'd been concerned about preventing any injury to his pianists' hands. And now he couldn't afford to get arrested and put Renaissance Escorts in jeopardy.

But he suspected that nothing would deter him from protecting Bella.

He shoved his chair away from the desk and got up to roam the claustrophobic room once more. He checked his shoes, sitting on the windowsill next to the air conditioner - still damp. He'd cleaned them up in the small dorm sink as best he could. He would have fun explaining this one to Rosalie. She was fairly generous with her employees' wardrobe allowances, since it behooved her to make sure they looked as well-put together as possible. Surely this wouldn't be the first time she'd had to replace an escort's fine Italian leather shoes for such occupational hazards as being vomited upon by drunken clients.

Bella's little friends had certainly found it amusing when she unloaded all over the sidewalk in front of him. Edward, on the other hand, was more relieved than annoyed. He preferred that she purge some of the alcohol from her system before it did any more damage. But the idiots escorting her home found it hilarious, which incensed him. How could they find humor in Bella being so sick? He supposed they were merely enjoying him and his shoes getting the brunt of it.

At least the blond kid had the good sense to look guilty about his laughter afterward. Edward surmised he must be Mike, the ex-boyfriend. He looked innocent enough. But the other, darker kid, not so much. Edward peered into his bloodshot eyes, then narrowed his own.

"What is she on?" he demanded as he drew a moaning and apologetic Bella into his arms.

The kid's dilated pupils widened. "What do you mean? Nothing, man. She just had a little too much to drink."

"Is she stoned?"

The kid's face went sheepish, and Edward had his answer. He turned to Mike.

"What did she drink?"

"I'm right here, you know," Bella interjected, wiping her mouth. "It was just jungle juice."

A glance at the color of vomit seeping into his socks confirmed her statement.

"It was Everclear punch," Mike admitted, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I tried to get her to stop earlier."

"You should have tried harder," Edward barked. God, he sounded like Bella's father. He grimaced and turned his attention to her. "You feel a little better now?"

She nodded, but her words were woeful. "I can't believe I barfed on you, Edward. Oh my God. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. . ." She buried her face in his shirt and grabbed his tie, wrapping it around her hand and tugging, pulling him closer. His arms tightened around her, his hand finding the back of her neck, rubbing and soothing.

He bent down and whispered so that only she could hear. "It's okay, baby. I'm gonna take you home now."

He was grateful that she was coherent enough to remember where that was, and to assure Mike and the pothead she'd be safe with him. Once they arrived in her tiny single-bed dorm room, he'd instructed her to brush her teeth before he took his turn at the sink. He proceeded to wash out his socks and shoes, his back turned so that Bella could get undressed for bed.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before," she taunted over his shoulder. He glanced up in the mirror in time to watch her pull her t-shirt over her head and unhook her bra, throwing both over a vinyl blow-up chair that sat in one corner. And there they were, those perky little tits he'd fantasized about for days. They seemed to taunt him, too. He was mesmerized by Bella's drunken dance as she pushed her tight jeans down, cotton panties going along for the ride, until she wriggled free of them and tossed them on top of her other discarded clothes.

His eyes were glued to the mirror, staring at her naked ass bent over the bed while she pulled the covers back and retrieved a loosely-folded tank top and boy shorts from next to the pillow. Instantly he imagined pushing her onto the mattress and taking her from behind, spreading those sweet cheeks and plunging in deep, hands stroking her back and her thighs and that perfect round ass while he fucked her.

He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them to concentrate on wringing his socks out to dry. By the time he hazarded another glance in the mirror, Bella was dressed, though not enough to purge all sexual thoughts from his mind. Those thoughts were even harder to ignore when she staggered up and threw her slender arms around him, pressing her breasts to his back, her abdomen to his ass.

"You came for me," she mumbled with a sigh between his shoulder blades.

"I'll always come for you."

She giggled a little and worked one hand over the front of his pants until she found the beginnings of his erection. Junior quickly came to life under her insistent probing.

"I can make you come again." Her hot breath seeped through his cotton dress shirt and scorched the skin beneath.

"I know you can," he said, suppressing a groan as he ran his hands down her forearms. With effort he pulled her hand free from his groin, then turned to face her, clasping her fingers between his. "And when you're sober, we can explore various methods to achieve that. But for now, you're going to take some aspirin and get some sleep."

Bella scowled and squeezed his hands tightly, pushing her torso against his. "That's crazy. I want you now. And I know you want me." She looked imploringly up into his face, her eyes drifting a bit before she forced them to focus on his. "In fact, now is perfect. Maybe when I'm drunk, it won't hurt. I want to feel you inside me when it doesn't hurt. I want to come, too. With you." She reached up on tiptoes but could still only reach his neck, so she planted a kiss there. "Fuck me and make me come, Edward," she whispered.

He let the groan escape this time. He tried to pull back, but it was no use. He didn't want to. He let go of her hands and grabbed her face instead, holding it steady, perhaps trying to infuse her with some sobriety. She stroked his forearms up and down and emitted a sort of purring noise that nearly caused him to lose every ounce of restraint.

He took a deep breath and told her, "I want to do exactly that. You have no idea how much. But I will not take advantage of you when you're like this. Trust me, you'll thank me later."

"Its not taking advantage when I want it," she insisted. She leaned in again, raising up on tiptoes, hands clasping his neck to pull him closer. "I want you. And the doctor said the only way it would get better for me is if I have more sex, and I don't want to use those stupid things she gave me. I want your fingers and your mouth and your dick instead. I want you. Don't you want me?"

"Christ," he swore in exasperation at her intoxicated wheedling. "You know I do. But I don't know what the hell you're talking about with this doctor business. It sounds like we need to have a serious discussion, tomorrow. When you're sober. All right?"

Defeated, Bella released his neck and dropped to her heels. She pouted and let her bleary eyes settle somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach. "Fine."

She dutifully took two aspirin that he'd shaken from the bottle he found in her medicine cabinet, then let him lead her to the narrow twin bed. She insisted that he climb in with her. Still fully dressed, he lay on top of the covers, spooning her, gently rubbing her temple, then her shoulder, until she passed out.

He had barely succumbed to sleep himself when Bella suddenly lurched from the bed and ran for the sink. The aspirin, and some remnants of jungle juice, had decided to exit her stomach without warning. He approached her retching form with tentative offers to hold her hair back, but she waved him away with one hand, moaning "Don't look at me!" between heaves.

He perched on one corner of the bed and waited helplessly until she was finished. He observed her gargle some mouthwash, then dig a can of bleach cleanser and a sponge from under the sink. The minute she began to scrub its porcelain bowl, he took over.

"Let me do that. Get some rest," he ordered softly.

She nodded and shuffled back to bed, where she promptly passed out again for a couple of hours.

Thus began a fitful night for both of them. Bella's sleep was intermittent, punctuated by trips down the hall to the girls' bathroom, and fits of vomiting in the sink when she couldn't make it that far. Edward cleaned up after her, soothed her, and tried to quell his own queasiness at the faint odor of vomit permeating the room, and alcohol dissipating from Bella's skin. He slept little, too worried about the possibility of her asphyxiating in her sleep to give in to unconsciousness.

They both found some peace around dawn, when Bella's stomach gave up the ghost after a few last dry heaves. Edward made her drink some water, though she was afraid to put anything in her stomach.

"I don't want you to get dehydrated," he admonished.

She shook her head wearily. "I can't believe you're still here."

He smiled and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "Where else am I gonna go?"

They both slept a little then. The sun was kind enough to slumber beneath a thick blanket of gloom, letting little of its light creep around the room-darkening curtains. When Edward finally awoke, he was stiff and exhausted, but unable to lie in the cramped bed any longer, even with Bella at his side.

He decided to peruse the room then, taking note of the music posters on the walls, the paperback books on the shelves, and the photographs of her family and a few friends collaged on a corkboard over her desk. Bella was a perfect blend of both her parents: the dark hair and eyes of her father, the petite nose and kind-hearted smile of her mother.

Edward was still grinning at this when he looked down at the desk calendar, only to be flooded with sudden relief. There was his good luck charm, tucked into one corner. He pulled it out and viewed the familiar artwork and poem with the same melancholy yearning he always felt, tempered only slightly by the passing of years. He would never stop missing his parents; never stop wishing for their good advice. He'd certainly made some bad decisions in their absence.

He sighed and tucked his mother's painting back into the desk calendar for the time being. That's when he noticed the loose piece of notebook paper, its edge sticking out from under this month's page. Curiosity won over guilt, and he pulled the paper out to see what was written there. The poem looked lengthy, so he sat down at the desk to read it.

And now he sat here for a fifth time, a fifth reading, still waiting for Bella to sleep off her hangover. He wondered why she had overdone it so much. Was she really that desperate to fit in? He didn't understand it, as willful and strong-minded as she could be. She didn't seem the type to give in to peer pressure. Yet the poem in front of him belied her insecurities. He remembered how nearly terrified she'd been at first last weekend; how he'd had to coax her out of her crippling self-consciousness. But once he had, she had been a different girl. Bold, confident - as sure of him as she was herself. Maybe more so.

How had he brought that out in her, when he constantly fought to keep his own self-worth out of the toilet?

"What are you doing?"

Bella's quiet voice pierced his thoughts, and he turned to look at her. She was sitting up in bed, arms wrapped around her knees, hair so askew it resembled a wig, face drained of color.

"Just noticing you found this." Edward picked up his good luck charm in explanation.

"I'm glad I did. It's beautiful. Did Emily paint that? No wonder you were worried about losing it."

"My mother painted it, actually," he replied, getting up and seating himself on the corner of the bed, opposite Bella.

She looked surprised. "The signature said 'E. Masen' - I just assumed that stood for Emily."

"My mother's name was Elizabeth." His smile was wan as he said her name.

"_Was_?" Bella's forehead creased with concern.

Edward nodded. "She died when I was young. Both of my parents did. Car accident."

"Edward. . ." Bella's face was stricken now. She didn't know what to say. She was so exhausted that no adequate condolence could seem to form on her lips.

"I know. It sucks, you're sorry, I'm sorry. But it was a long time ago. I'll save that story for another day. Right now, I'm more interested in how you're doing."

She tried to muster a smile, though her lips felt glued to her teeth. "I'm kind of shitty, actually."

"No kidding." His grin was gently teasing.

"I feel like I've been run over by a Mack truck, repeatedly. And now there's a guy swinging a sledge hammer inside my forehead, over my right eye. Repeatedly." She put her hand to the spot and closed her eyes.

"I see you have some crackers and peanut butter," he noted with a nod at the mini-fridge and storage cart sitting next to it. "You should try to eat something and take some aspirin."

Bella moaned loudly with a grimace. Edward only chuckled and said, "Humor me. I think maybe you can keep some crackers down now."

"Maybe," she said doubtfully. But after he brought them to her, along with a glass of water and two more aspirin, she forced herself to eat. The saltiness of the crackers tasted surprisingly good, so she had a few more. She eyed Edward's encouraging face and was amazed all over again.

"Why are you still here? Why did you stay with me all night and subject yourself to my marathon puke-fest?"

He let out a small chuckle. "Because I've been there myself, more than once. And I wasn't about to let you choke to death on your own vomit in the middle of the night. I've grown kind of partial to you this past week."

Bella smiled in spite of herself, and Edward was relieved to see a bit of color seep back into her cheeks. "Well, I'm still mortified beyond all measure, but I'm glad you were here. Even when I wished you weren't. If that makes sense."

He nodded and gave her that half-grin that could cure just about anything, except the pounding headache consuming most of her brain power at the moment.

"So, you've officially seen me at my worst, I think it's safe to say," she told him. "I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to stick around for the rest of this show. You know - me, being jealous and insecure and stupid, while you go about your job like a responsible adult. I guess I just proved that I don't handle what you do for a living very well. Which makes me both immature and a hypocrite."

Bella frowned and rubbed her forehead some more. Did she really just admit all that? Apparently she wasn't done spewing - she'd just switched to the verbal version.

Edward sighed and reached out to touch her, his hand grasping her calf, just below the knee. The heat of his skin was a welcome distraction from the throbbing inside her skull.

"I don't blame you for any of your reactions, and I don't think they make you immature. Just human. I found out how human I was last night, too. All this time I wondered how you would get past worrying about what I was doing; and I failed to realize that I would worry just as much about you. You gave me a taste of my own medicine, and it was a bitter pill to swallow. I didn't like seeing you in that state, with those two morons helping you home. I wanted to kill them both for letting you get like that."

Bella shook her head. "Don't blame them. I did it to myself. Neither of them forced me to get high or drunk. Mike tried to get me to slow down. But when I realized that the pot made me forget about you for awhile, I decided that the alcohol would work when the high wore off. I wanted the oblivion, so I wouldn't have to imagine what you might be doing with someone else."

Edward's eyes closed briefly as the truth he'd tried to avoid boxed him about the ears. He took a deep breath. "I knew this wouldn't be good for you. Impossible situation. . ." his voice faded and he dropped his hand from her leg.

"So what did happen last night?" she asked, her own voice hoarse. "On your date."

"Nothing. She hooked up with her ex-boyfriend. Turns out he'd hired a female escort to make her jealous, too. We all had a twisted laugh over it and went home."

Bella nodded dully. "So I worried for nothing. Got fucked up for nothing."

Edward nodded with her. But then she added, "This time." And he could not dispute the afterthought.

"You probably already slept with other girls this week, before we met up again," she continued in a lethargic drone. "I saw your schedule, remember?"

His nod was barely perceptible; he couldn't quite make his eyes meet hers, and she had her answer.

"So really, it doesn't matter anyway, because the deed is done," she said matter-of-factly. "And it will be done again. So either I deal with it, or I don't."

Edward let out an anguished breath. "You shouldn't have to. You don't have to. Say the word and I'm gone. This is no good for either of us. Maybe, if I figure out another way; but in the meantime. . ."

Bella was too sick to be consumed by the panic again. In fact, she was beginning to feel oddly pragmatic about the whole ordeal.

"Maybe we're looking at this all wrong," she suggested. "Maybe we should forget the idea of any kind of normal relationship. I could just continue to hire you, and you'll be all mine for that space of time, until the next time. I can't afford the fancy hotel, obviously, but surely you have cut rates for cheaper dates. Just some fast food and a quickie in a Motel 6 or something. I don't care about the trappings, just the time with you -"

"Stop," Edward cut her off, staring at her in horror. "Don't even. . . Just stop. Whatever we have may have started off as prostitution, but it's not going to continue that way. Not with you. No."

"Fine. Then let's just be fuck buddies for free. We'll see each other whenever we get the urge and our schedules allow. You can teach me how to get good at sex, and I can, I don't know, tell jokes or do your laundry or something."

Edward's horror had only escalated. "I'm going to chalk this up to some strange substances still being in your body, because the shit you're saying does not sound like you. We just proved last night that we are completely incapable of being just fuck buddies. And what is this crap about me teaching you to 'get good' at sex? I wasn't lying when I told you you're a natural. I have no complaints about our night together. I wish you felt the same."

Something snapped inside her at his words. "I _want_ to feel the same. I do feel the same - you were amazing. The sex, and everything else about that night, was incredible. I just wish I was woman enough to have enjoyed it."

Hot, embarrassed tears began to form at the corners of her eyes, and she wiped them away before Edward's tentative hand could touch her. He ran his rejected fingers through the spikes of his unwashed hair and took a deep, exasperated breath.

"'Woman enough?' What the hell are you talking about, Bella? I thought you were through with this self-deprecating bullshit. You are not lacking in any way, as far as I'm concerned."

"Then why do I need these stupid things?" she exclaimed. She pulled out the drawer of her nightstand and grabbed a pink plastic bag from within, then threw it into Edward's lap. Perplexed, he opened the bag and stared at its contents. He didn't quite comprehend what he was seeing until he spied the tube of lubricant at the bottom.

"What the hell are these?" he demanded.

"What do they look like?" Her cheeks were flushed this time, with a strangely defiant embarrassment.

He glanced again at the varying sizes of clear cylindrical appendages and thought that they might possibly be helpful in preparing someone for anal sex, though he had a hard time believing that was Bella's intended use.

"They look like the least sexy sex toys I've ever seen," he announced.

"Bingo," she answered flatly.

He waited for some clarification, but receiving none, he continued. "And why do you have these?"

"Because my vagina is too small," she retorted. "I went to the gynecologist this week because I couldn't figure out why I was still chafed two days after we had sex. She had to use a special instrument to examine me because my opening was so narrow. She basically told me that I won't be able to enjoy sex until I get, you know, stretched out." She was beginning to feel humiliated talking about this with Edward, especially when he had that bemused smirk on his face. "So she gave me those things. To practice with."

For Edward's part, he was trying very hard to hold in his laughter. She obviously didn't find this subject amusing at all, and would probably have a hard time understanding why he did. He decided he'd try to explain himself as gently as possible.

"You just lost your virginity last week," he reminded her. "I think maybe you have some unrealistic expectations of your body. There's nothing wrong with you, or your vagina. Trust me on that one, okay?"

"That's easy for you to say," she grumbled. "My tiny vagina is probably fun for you."

He tried to suppress a grin. "It doesn't suck."

Bella was now having a hard time smothering her own smile, because she was beginning to realize how silly she sounded. "Well, I want to have fun too, you know," she countered feebly.

Edward leaned in and took her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Do you remember the first time I made you come? On the couch?"

He was using the honey voice on her, and she melted accordingly. She nodded.

"Did you have fun then?"

She bit her lip and tried not to roll her eyes at the absurdity of the question. "Yes."

"Do you remember how many fingers I had inside you when you came?"

His eyes were flames, and she the wax beneath them. She tried to recall the answer to his question, but all she remembered was the sensation of being stroked to a frenzy, inside and out, until she exploded in waves of ecstasy.

"Not exactly," she finally admitted.

"I had three fingers inside you," he murmured, continuing to melt her with his intensity. "You cried out at first, but then the pain went away, and the pleasure followed. And that will happen again, I promise you."

"With you?" Her heart was beating fast and her skin was damp with sweat again. She was simultaneously turned on, still sick, and increasingly aware that she was in need of a shower.

If he noticed, he didn't let on. "If that's what you want."

"Of course that's what I want."

"Then I'm yours. When you're feeling better," he added with a wry grin.

She let him kiss her, though she was sure her breath was as foul as a gym sneaker. His wasn't exactly moonlight and roses, either, and that made her smile. She remembered their morning after, and his insistence on kissing her then.

"I guess that brings us back to square one," he said ruefully as he pulled away.

"So much for progress," she agreed.

"Well, you've made great progress over the past twelve hours, I'd say. That's good enough for me right now."

She nodded in agreement, though she knew nothing had really been solved. Edward sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I should probably go and let you recover. I think you'll feel better after a shower. I can bring you something to eat later, if you'd like," he offered.

She couldn't bear the thought of him dropping off some take-out, dressed to the nines again for whatever date he had lined up tonight.

"No, I'm okay. I have the feeling I won't be very hungry today. I have some soup and stuff in case I am."

He gave her a nod and another quick kiss, then got up off the bed. She hated the way the mattress sprang upward, as if his weight had never been there, pinning it down. She watched him walk to the air conditioner, then saw that his shoes were sitting on the sill.

"What are your shoes doing there?" she asked with a laugh.

"I thought they'd dry faster," he replied, giving her a grin over his shoulder.

"Dry? . . ." she questioned. Then a memory crashed through her brain with the subtlety of a hundred sledge hammers. "Oh my God, I threw up on your shoes, didn't I?"

"Just a little," he said nonchalantly as he picked them up and inspected them. Then he sat down on the bed again to stuff his bare feet into the shrunken leather and tie the laces.

"Oh, geezus. I was hoping that was just a nightmare. But I really did that, didn't I? I barfed on those beautiful designer shoes. Kill me. Kill me now." She pulled the covers over her head and fell back on the pillows, Edward's muffled laughter accompanying her dramatic gesture. She felt his body leave the bed again, then heard him walk over to the closet. She pulled the covers down just enough to see him pull two bedraggled socks off of a hanger and stuff them in his pocket.

"The socks, too?" she wailed. "I puked on your poor feet. Oh, that's disgusting. I'm so sorry. Please kill me," she begged again.

"I told you," he said, sauntering over and bending down to kiss her nose. "I've grown rather fond of you. I'd prefer to keep you alive."

"Prince Charming," she mumbled from beneath the sheets as he turned to leave.

"What was that?" he asked, pausing at the door.

"Call me later," she said.

"Answer your phone." His face was stern.

Hers was contrite. "I will."

"Feel better, Bella." And with that, he was gone.

She had little time to miss him before falling into a headache-soothing sleep. She awoke sometime in the mid-afternoon, sweaty and dehydrated. But best of all, she actually felt a little hungry. She knew she'd reached a turning point, and for that she was grateful. She stumbled out of bed and stretched a bit, then grabbed her shower caddy and bathrobe in order to head down the hall to the showers. But as she passed her desk, a brightly-colored piece of paper caught her eye. She already knew what it was before she stopped to inspect it.

Edward had forgotten to take his good-luck charm. Or maybe he had left it on purpose once more, promising his return. She smiled as she ran her finger gingerly over the heavy watercolor paper and its fragile four-leaf clover.

Then she realized that her latest botched attempt at poetry was sitting on the opposite corner of the desk, atop the calendar, when she distinctly remembered stuffing it in between the pages after having given up on it a few days ago. Peering at the sheet of notebook paper, she noticed several new lines written at the bottom in a familiar, elegant script, directly below her own harsh critique.

_I like this poem, Swan-I-Am.  
><em>_It's better than green eggs and ham.  
><em>_It speaks a truth that's hard to say  
><em>_When circumstance gets in our way.  
><em>_I like the "me" I am with you  
><em>_And I'm still shocked you like me, too.  
><em>_A better man I'll never be  
><em>_Than the one I am as part of _

"_We." _

Bella smiled all the way down to the shower. But once she closed the curtain and stood under the spray, she let the tears flow freely.

* * *

><p><strong>I had such great intentions of answering reviews after the last chapter, because they really do mean the world to me. But when I sat down to type, this chapter came out instead. Go figure!<strong>

**A huge thank-you this week to JedigirlSC for nominating "The Agreement" as Fic of the Week at The Lemonade Stand, and big hugs to all of you who voted it into fourth place! I'm always amazed and humbled when things like that happen. I'm grateful to each and every one of you. :) xoxoxo**


	24. Chapter 24

Junior is a no-show.

Edward tries to remember if this has ever happened to him before. He recalls a few times when Junior was reluctant to rise to the occasion, but eventually its baser desires eventually won out over any reservations Edward may have had about the object of its affections. Junior has always reigned victorious, because it is still only twenty-four years old, and its needs are often more powerful than the feeble protestations of Edward's mind. In the battle of wills between penis and brain, the smaller organ generally has had no trouble exerting its will over the larger.

But now, a third party has charged the battlefield, and its arsenal of weapons is proving far mightier than those of its rivals.

In tonight's fight for supremacy, the clear winner is Edward's heart.

His date is unaware of the war being waged beneath the surface of Edward's coolly handsome exterior. He looks a bit tired, she thinks; that must be the problem. She knows it's not her. She has been assured more than once that she is attractive, even beautiful. She doesn't need to hire a man to get a date. But she's in between boyfriends right now and she's bored. Paying an escort to do her bidding gives her a kick. She enjoys being wined and dined and treated like she's the most special woman in the world, and even the best of men have trouble keeping up that level of attention after awhile. She knows all too well why the idiom "familiarity breeds contempt" exists. So she hires an escort when she wants the respect afforded only from a stranger.

Edward figured this out within the first half hour of their date. He has not lost his touch at reading between the lines; at least, not with most women. He has found the majority of them to be transparent, to varying degrees. This is why he's had so much success as an escort.

He has been quite successful so far this evening, only too happy to flatter and amuse and seduce this woman, because these are the things at which he is adept. He is comfortable skating along the surface, telling her what she wants to hear. He has drawn out this part of the evening as long as he could, because he knew eventually she would not be satisfied with merely the surface. And sure enough, his seduction has worked - she wants more.

She is all over him like a cheap suit, replacing the expensive one she peeled from him like the skin from a juicy apple. She wants to take a bite, and she wants to be bitten in return. But he finds only poison in her, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth and a limpness in his bones. She puts more effort into her ministrations, continuing her exhortation to bring him to life; but her charms and skills are not enough to undo the spell of the fairer one who came before her.

He watches her honey-colored head bob between his legs, and the color reminds him of his mother's hair. He groans, but not in the way his date desires. He grabs a hank of the offending strands in his hand and pulls, interrupting her efforts to resuscitate the limp carcass of Junior that flops next to one thigh.

She sighs in mild exasperation and slithers up his body, letting her impressive tits hang in his face. He knows it is a landmark day when he remains unfazed by a rack like this.

"Who is she?"

He is surprised to hear these words leave her lips. He looks into her eyes, and sees a glimmer of empathy, maybe even pity.

"Who's who?" he answers, ineffectually playing dumb.

She's not playing. "The girl who's fucking with your mind so that I can't fuck with your body."

Startled, he lets his guard drop, and she glimpses the real guy under the glib surface. Edward sees something real in her, too; something he could like, under different circumstances. He wants to tell her the truth, but he can't say the fairer one's name out loud. It would be sacrilege. He has already changed hotels, because he knew he could not entertain this woman in _that_ suite, especially not one week to the night after _her_. He has done everything he could to remove this situation from that one; to make this a separate world unto itself. But he cannot divide himself in two, no matter how he tries.

His date sees this. And yet he still cannot defile the truth by sharing it with her.

"I'm just tired," he says. At least that much is not a lie.

"Occupational hazard?" she asks with a sardonic laugh.

The ghost of a grin haunts his lips. "I didn't sleep well last night. I'm sorry."

His date lets her hazel eyes roam over his lovely, somewhat tragic features, and she feels sorry for him. That's a new one for her, and certainly not what she paid for. But something in her won't give up on this one. He's a good guy - too good for this gig. Yet here they are, and she is going to make the best of it.

"You know what? I'm going to give you a pass. I'll do all the work this time. You just close your eyes and dream. Imagine whoever you want," she says, her voice softening. She leans down and kisses him softly along one high cheekbone, and though his brows knit, his eyes flutter closed. He is only too happy to lose himself in illusion. He succumbs to the lure of his own imagination, and Junior follows.

"That's it," his date coos, planting a kiss on the opposite cheek. "Close your eyes and dream, sweet prince."

# # # # # # # # # # #

"So, when did you stop liking Adam Sandler movies?"

Bella looks across the car seat at Mike in surprise. "What do you mean? I love Adam Sandler."

"You didn't laugh once during that movie," he replies with an accusatory quirk of his brows before shifting his eyes back to the road.

"Sure I did," she argues. "You just didn't hear me."

He lets out a laugh of his own. "I know what your laugh sounds like. Besides, every time I looked over at you, you had this totally preoccupied frown on your face. Kind of like now."

Her frown turns to a scowl. "Shut up. I did not. I thought the movie was funny. I was laughing on the inside. I'm sorry if I don't howl like a baboon so the whole theater turns and looks at me, like _some_ people I know," she shoots back with a grin.

"Nice. Real nice, Bella," he replies, putting his hand over his heart as if he's been wounded. "At least people know where I stand. You never have to wonder what's really going on with me - I just let it all out there. What you see is what you get."

She smiles then. "That's true. That is actually one of your nicer qualities."

He gives her an exaggerated look of stunned surprise. "I'm surprised you found one. Seems like back in the day, I could never do anything right."

"That's not true," she denies, although when she thinks back, she realizes maybe it _is_ kind of true. She'd never known exactly what was missing in their relationship, so she expressed her overall dissatisfaction in subtle ways, constantly nit-picking and pointing out even the smallest of Mike's flaws. He didn't deserve that, and she ended up disliking herself more than she ever did him.

She looks at him now with latent guilt. "I'm sorry for the way I treated you then. I was pretty immature. I didn't really know why I was unhappy, and I took it out on you. That wasn't fair, and I'm not proud of it. I am sorry about that."

His surprise is genuine this time. "We were both immature then," he says with a shrug. He suddenly laughs and adds, "Man, if this car could talk! Think of the stories it would tell."

He waggles an eyebrow at her and makes her giggle. He is still driving what used to be his dad's Civic, but it now belongs to him - a going-off-to-college gift. She is fairly certain that every single time he took her out on a date back then, he'd lured her into the back seat and tried to wrestle her out of her clothes.

"You were relentless," Bella remembers, side-eying him and shaking her head. "I almost gave in a couple of times."

"Don't be fooled - I'm still relentless," he says with a grin. "As soon as we get this sucker in the parking garage, it's on like Donkey Kong."

He lets out a wolf howl and Bella laughs in earnest, swatting away his roaming hand before it can creep over the center console and give her thigh a squeeze.

Mike likes that he has her laughing, especially after the movie failed to do so. If he can make her happy, maybe he can make her feel other things, too. He's half elated, half frustrated that Bella Swan still provokes the same feelings in him she always has. She is as warm and real as ever, and twice as pretty; but that same vaguely stand-offish vibe she has always emitted is stronger than ever, surrounding her like an invisible force field. He wants to charge through it with the heroic fervor of Luke Skywalker brandishing his light saber, but he fears that instead of arriving on the scene too early, this time he has come too late.

Han Solo has already beat him to the punch.

They are quiet as they pull into the parking garage near their dorms. Bella feels the silence as an easy one, but Mike's interpretation is that of tension. He is about to ask her questions to which he's not sure he wants the answers.

He debates taking her hand as he walks her to her room, but she is moving briskly ahead, not at the leisurely, romantic amble he would have liked. He hurries along with her, the pace making him blurt out his query with much less nonchalance than he wishes.

"So who was that suit guy who showed up to take you home last night?"

Bella is frowning slightly again. She barely glances at Mike out of the corner of her eye before answering, "Just a friend."

Mike lets out a derisive laugh. "Well, he was pretty over-protective of you, for being just a friend."

Bella slows down slightly and gives him a curious look. "You think so?"

"Yeah. He was looking at me and Riley like we were the lowest forms of human life. I mean, come on," he scoffed. "Like I'd ever let anything happen to you, or take advantage of you."

"No, I know you wouldn't," she agrees quickly. "I guess he's just worried about me."

Mike can see she's fighting a smile. So she _likes_ that this other guy came across like some crazy, possessive freak. Great.

"Yeah, well, he went overboard," Mike tells her. "Where did you meet that guy, anyway? Dude was kind of creepy."

"Creepy?" she exclaims. Then she laughs like he's an idiot. "Edward's not creepy at all. He's about the sweetest guy I've ever met," she says defensively, and Mike feels a little nauseous.

"Edward? What the fuck kind of name is that?"

"It's a classic name. You know, like the name _Michael_. Except he's not into being called Ed or Eddie," Bella says with a lip-curl of distaste. "You can hardly blame him for that."

She is practically marching up to the entrance of McMahon Hall now, Mike stomping alongside her with matching militant zeal. This is not at all how he wanted this night to end. When he'd called her earlier to see how she was, he thought offering to take her to a movie would lift her spirits and make her feel better. He figured her request to see "something funny - so funny it's stupid" was a good sign. Maybe they could have a laugh, reminisce about the past, and then talk about their present and future. They have done exactly that. But clearly they have different ideas about the present, and where they want the future to take them.

By the time they reach Bella's door at the end of the hall, Mike is feeling repentant.

"Look, I'm sorry I made a crack about that guy. He's obviously important to you, so. . ." he trails off, not sure what else to say. If she wants to date some creepy older suit-wearing guy, who is he to stop her? This Edward dude probably has money coming out of his ears. Mike is lucky Bella was willing to share the tub of jumbo popcorn at the movie.

"It's okay," she answers. She looks melancholy now; he's not sure why.

He gathers his courage to blurt out the other thing he wants to say.

"So, is it serious between you and this Edward guy? If it is, just say so. If it's not, well. . . I'd like to see you again. Even if it's just as friends. I've missed you, and I had a good time tonight. I'd like to do it again."

Bella looks into Mike's earnest blue eyes, as bright as the sky on a cloudless day. She wants to tell him that what she and Edward have is as serious as it gets, but how can she be sure? Instead, she tells him the truth.

"I don't know what I have with Edward. I know what I want, but I don't know if it can work." She frowns and looks down at the ugly gray carpet, then the ugly plaster wall, then the ugly silver door handle clutched under her fingers. Finally she lifts her gaze back to the blue. "I think we're a lot better off as friends, Mike. But I'd like to do this again, too, if being friends is okay with you."

Mike's heart is heavy, but it hasn't sunk completely. He gives her a grin far more cocky than he's feeling.

"I think I could do the friend thing with you." He's not sure this is true, but he'd like it to be. And if this thing with suit-guy doesn't work, it wouldn't be so bad to be the one helping her pick up the pieces, would it?

Bella smiles, and Mike tries not to see the relief in her expression. "Thanks," she says. "For taking me to the movie - for being a good friend. I appreciate it."

He smiles and tells her, "No problem," even though it is kind of a problem, but one he hopes he can deal with. They share an awkward hug that he desperately wishes was more, but he's too much of a pussy to kiss her when she basically just told him, "I really want the suit dude, but if you wanna hang around in the wings just in case, I'd be cool with that."

He's still mentally calling himself a pussy as he walks down the hall. The word reverberates in his head all the way back to McCarty Hall.

Bella gets ready for bed, then lies down, sniffing the pillows for any remnant of Edward's musky scent lingering there. She checks her phone for messages, but sees nothing new. It is near midnight. She knows, deep in her heart of hearts, what Edward is doing right now. She knows.

She thinks back to what she and Edward were doing one week ago tonight, right now. He was shattering her world irrevocably with every touch; with the thorough and systematic invasion of her body, mind, heart and soul. She can only pray that no matter what he is doing now, he is not changing someone else the way he did her.

She re-reads the series of text messages between them from earlier this evening.

_Hi. How are you feeling? Better, I hope._

_Slowly but surely. You witnessed the worst of it - got the brunt of it, too. I'm so sorry about your shoes. Unforgivable._

_Nothing you could do would be unforgivable, least of all that._

_I'll remember you said that. BTW, I loved your addition to my poem. Can't believe you read that tripe. You really have seen the worst of me now._

_I've seen the best, too, and it showed in that poem. Stop putting yourself down. Pisses me off. _

_Duly noted. So you're a poet, too, Mr. Cullen. Your verse made me cry._

_Why?_

_Because it touched me. Because I want it to be true. Because I want you. I want "we."_

She remembers there was a pause between messages then. She waited what felt like hours for his reply.

_You kill me when you say these things, _he texted at last.

_Kill you, how? In a good way or bad way?_

_I don't even know. You don't hold anything back. No games. I'm not used to it._

Bella pauses as she's reading, because she has just realized she is honest with Edward in a way she was never able to be with Mike. She wonders why. Maybe it's because she has nothing, and everything, to lose with Edward.

_I'm not interested in playing games with you. Well, some games might be fun. But you know what I mean._

_I do know what you mean. And I realize I want it all with you. . . The games. The truth. Whatever it is. However I can get it. But I don't know how to do that without hurting you._

Bella had paused then, because she didn't know how he could do that either.

_Just give me your truth in return, _she finally texted.

_The truth is, I miss you. I will miss you tonight like crazy._

She wanted to remind him it was their one-week anniversary, but it hurt too much to point out the obvious.

_Ditto, _she replied. _Like crazy_.

She feels crazy now. She puts the phone aside and stares at the ceiling, trying to shut off her brain. Trying not to think about what she knows he is doing right now. She squeezes her eyes shut and relives her night with him instead. She can almost feel the warmth of his touch, the hypnotic trance of his eyes locked with hers, the heat of his breath on her face, the intensity of him moving over her and inside her. She recalls the pain and pleasure of him filling her to overflowing, pushing her to her limits and then beyond.

But this time, she imagines ecstasy overwhelming every other sensation as he thrusts deeper and harder and faster inside her. She realizes she is touching herself, stroking in time to Edward's movements in her mind. Her hand and Dream Edward pick up the pace, attacking with a frenzy that makes her belly tighten and a fire ignite within, growing until it engulfs her completely.

She cries out softly as she comes, but she is not worried about anyone hearing her beyond the thick walls of her tiny room. She is not really here, anyway.

She is miles away, in a bed of sumptuous silk, with her dragon slayer, her poet, her prince.

* * *

><p><strong>Big thanks to <em>JedigirlSC<em> for her lovely review of The Agreement on The Lemonade Stand this week! And thanks again to everyone who voted it into fourth place last week. I am still blown away by your support. You all are amazing.**

** Many thanks also to _newyorkeralways82_ for pointing out some typos in previous chapters so I could fix them. That's what I get for not using a beta. As Carson Dyle once told me, "Anyone who proofreads their own work has a fool for an editor." *looks in the mirror* Hi, fool!**

**I'm still trying to get reviews answered - I'm almost there! I can't thank you all enough for the great feedback. Bless you all and have a great weekend, what's left of it! xoxo**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: Though the beginning of this chapter might suggest otherwise, I am not taking this story in a religious direction. **

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><p>On the way to the parking garage, Bella found herself standing outside the little church near her dorm again, staring at the giant black sheet of glass, wondering. She was dying to know what that stained-glass window looked like from inside the building.<p>

From the outside, it was impressive mainly in size, dwarfing the east end of the church. The building was constructed of unassuming tan brick, its focal point clearly the stained-glass window she assumed was centered over the altar. Her parents weren't particularly religious, so she had been in only a few churches before. Most of them were silent, gloomy affairs, filled with dark wood and high stained glass that filtered in little light.

But this window was enormous, and relatively close to the ground compared to the others she'd seen. She imagined that it let in a lot of light. She had the feeling it was beautiful, even though she couldn't see any of the colors from the outside. She could only see the dark reflection of the glass between the leading. A huge likeness of Christ was superimposed over a thick, stylized cross, but he wasn't hanging upon it like the figures she'd seen on crucifixes. He was simply standing, fully dressed in robes, arms outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Instead of thorns, a halo surrounded his head. Its roundness was echoed in a secondary circle around the cross, itself dotted with small globes containing symbols she couldn't read.

From an artistic standpoint, she found it quite interesting. She would be taking an art history class this semester, and she knew cathedrals and religious artwork would be a big part of the course. She was curious to know how old this stained-glass window was, and what it looked like from the inside the church.

A glance at her watch told her she had a little time to kill before she had to be at work. The church parking lot was relatively empty, so she figured the Sunday service wouldn't start for awhile yet. Next thing she knew, she found herself slowly ascending the stairs to the heavy wooden front door. She took a breath, wrapped her hand around the iron handle and pulled up the latch. The door opened in well-oiled silence, and her heart picked up its pace as she stepped into the foreign entryway.

She looked around, but saw no one. She tiptoed in on sneakered feet, silently climbing another short set of stairs that led to the back of the church. She was surprised to see that the interior was light and airy. The room was painted white, carpeted in deep crimson, and decorated with comfortable-looking sofas and chairs. She crept along the carpet, looking around in cautious awe at her surroundings.

She soon reached a set of doors that had been propped open in welcome. She peered around the corner and down the long, carpeted aisle into the sanctuary. When her eyes met the stained glass window at the end, she let out a gasp.

It was beautiful. Breathtakingly, stunningly beautiful.

She found herself slowly walking down the center aisle of the sanctuary, barely cognizant of the warm maple pews passing her on either side. Her eyes were transfixed upon the enormous image over the altar, its colors resplendent as the morning sun shone through them with uncanny brilliance.

The entire background was comprised of vibrant royal blue glass in slightly varying shades, a perfect backdrop for the golden cross upon it. The figure of Christ was robed in shades of white, green and rich scarlet; the circle around him was scarlet as well, overlaid with white globes containing symbols she still didn't recognize. She wasn't sure, but she thought maybe they represented his disciples. She'd heard the Christmas and Easter stories, of course; Mom had always managed to get her to a church for such occasions.

But here, looking at this amazing piece of art, she felt a reverence she'd never felt before in church. She wasn't sure if it was the deep, glowing colors, or the serene, all-knowing look the artist had captured to represent the features of Jesus. All she knew was that for the first time, she actually felt like she might be in the presence of something greater than herself.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

She literally jumped at the sound of the voice behind her. She'd been so lost in her studies of the window that she'd failed to hear the soft pad of feet approaching on the thick carpeting. She whirled around and found herself face to face with a rather short, bespectacled man wearing a huge grin and a white cassock.

"It's amazing," she finally uttered after her heart stopped knocking against her ribs.

"Sorry if I scared you," the pastor said, still smiling, not looking particularly sorry at all. "I figured Daisy and I made enough ruckus just breathing, let alone walking, to give you some warning."

Bella flashed him a confused look before she realized what she was seeing. All at once, she took in the obvious: his amiable eyes were crinkled into unfocused slits behind their lenses of thick, myopic glass; and in his left hand he grasped a leather-wrapped bridle securing a large, liver-colored Chesapeake Bay retriever at his side.

"I'm Pastor Tim," the man said, holding out his hand in her direction. She took it and he instantly grasped her hand tightly, giving it a warm shake.

"I'm Bella," she managed to say.

"Nice to meet you, Bella," the pastor boomed. "Are you going to stay for the service today? I promise, Daisy and I don't bite. Well, she doesn't, anyway," he added with a mischievous grin.

Bella let out a weak laugh and knelt down to scratch the placid guide dog behind her ears.

"She's beautiful," Bella said.

"So I'm told," Pastor Tim replied. "She's my eyes, though, so I'm a little biased."

"I'm sorry," Bella told him, not knowing what else to say.

"Don't be. I'm blessed to have such a beautiful pair of eyes, don't you think?"

She couldn't be sure, but it looked as if he'd just given her a wink.

"Daisy is a blessing," Bella agreed. The pastor was so uncannily open that she decided to take a chance and ask him the foremost question on her mind. "So, have you seen this stained-glass window? I mean, before. . ."

"Before I went blind?" the pastor was kind enough to finish for her.

"Yeah." Her voice was sheepish.

"No, I've been blind since I was a young man. Diabetes," he explained. "Took part of my leg, too. Couldn't take my spirit, though. The Lord made sure that stayed intact."

"Wow." Bella's reply was barely audible, but she had the feeling Pastor Tim heard her.

"My parishioners have described the window to me in detail, and it's all the more beautiful when I see it through their eyes. I'm lucky to still have my mind's eye, too. And the imagination can be a powerful thing - more powerful than reality, sometimes."

Bella was a little stunned by the profundity of his simple statements. "You're right," she agreed softly.

"Well, I just wanted to welcome a newcomer to the church. I hope you'll stay and hear the message today. It's a good one, if I do say so myself." He gave her that same infectious grin, and she found herself wishing she could stay and hear more of his words.

"I'm afraid I have to work," she told him. "I just wanted to steal a look at that window from the inside. I didn't mean to intrude."

He tutted and waved a dismissive hand. "You can never intrude in the house of the Lord. It's your house. It's everyone's house, if they only let it be."

Bella nodded, thanked Pastor Tim again, and hurried out of the sanctuary. She knew he meant his words of welcome, but she was beginning to feel like she had overstepped; like she didn't belong in this place, no matter how warm and inviting it felt.

She pushed the front door open and barreled out onto the concrete landing - straight into a parishioner who was just arriving. The woman's wide-brimmed hat was knocked from her head as Bella whizzed by, and the wind picked up strands of her neat silver bob, blowing them into the air.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Bella apologized, bending down to retrieve the woman's gauzy summer hat. The breeze lifted and carried it away before she could grab it, and she stumbled after it, her sneakers scraping the pavement.

"Oh my!" The woman exclaimed, watching the young girl scramble. "Don't trouble yourself, I'll get it."

But Bella had already seized the brim. "Got it!" she pronounced, waving it in the air as she stood upright. The woman was laughing and smoothing her sleek bob with one hand when Bella handed her the hat.

"Thank you, dear," she said with a benevolent smile. Bella smiled herself, at the woman's elegant demeanor and English accent. She was the type of woman Bella thought she might like to be when she was older - smart, stylish, almost regal.

"You're welcome," Bella told her, then turned to leave.

"Aren't you going to stay for the service?" the woman asked as she reached for the now-closed door.

"No, I have to work," she begged off.

"Oh, that's a shame. You should come back some time when you can. Pastor Tim is a delightful man. I was dead chuffed when I discovered him. He's not all stuffy and holier-than-thou like so many other reverends. He speaks straight to the heart without even trying."

"I'm sure he does," Bella agreed.

"I hope to see you again, then."

Bella looked into the kind-hearted eyes of the British woman and thought that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing to come back here sometime. She watched as the woman waved her hat good-bye and opened the door of the church.

"Pastor Tim," she called in greeting, stepping into the entry.

"Good morning, Charlotte," was the last thing Bella heard as the heavy door swung shut behind her.

# # # # # # # # # # #

"Remind me again why I do this."

Emmett glanced over at Edward, but the latter was still staring morosely off the terrace, his eyes unfocused in the direction of the Sound.

"What, relax at home with a beer on a Sunday afternoon?" Emmett countered, taking a swig from his Heineken. "Because it's the law."

That one nearly cracked Edward's face with a grin, but not quite.

"No, why I fuck women for money," he clarified bluntly.

"Ah," Emmett replied, as if he didn't already know the cause of Edward's ill humor. "You just said it yourself - you need the money. And you don't fuck them. Not all of them. You merely entertain them, however they desire. You provide the much-needed and appreciated service of companionship - nothing more, nothing less."

Edward did grin this time. "I like how you toe the company line. Rose would be proud." He glanced over and gave Emmett a suspicious look. "Does she have a recording device jammed in your shoe?"

"Possibly," he answered with a grin. His smile faded and he gave Edward a questioning look. "You wanna tell me what this is about?"

Edward frowned and took a hefty swig of his own beer. "I just need you to remind me why I started doing this. Tell me everything I said to you in the bar that night, when you talked me into following in your footsteps."

"Hey, I didn't have to talk very long," Emmett protested. "A the time, you were ready to sell all your bodily fluids and probably your first born for money."

"Exactly. Remind me why."

Emmett sighed before taking a deep breath and launching into the list. It had been awhile since he'd had to do this, but apparently Edward needed to hear it one more time.

"Well, you're looking at one of the main reasons. This view. This house. Your mother's house; your grandmother's house. La Casa Cullen - the only physical thing that remains of your family's history. It's not a mansion, but it's all you have, and in this location, the property taxes alone could bleed a man dry."

Edward nodded. "Go on."

"You didn't have a clue what was really going on with your grandmother when you were away at school," Emmett continued with another sigh. "She even managed to hide it from Alice for awhile. Then the two of them hid it from you - how much she was forgetting. How Alice had started paying the bills when Emily forgot. But even she didn't know just how bad it was until Emily wandered off and left the stove on after lunch one day. She nearly burned the whole Goddamned house down. If Alice hadn't come home from school when she did, both Emily and this place would have been gone."

Edward took another mouthful of beer and swished it around in his mouth, enjoying its mild bite. "Continue."

Emmett shook his head, wondering why Edward made him do this. Why he did it to himself. But for some reason, he needed it, so Emmett droned on.

"Well, as I recall, you were just graduating from Juilliard at the time and had planned to audition for a position with a traveling symphony. Instead, you came home to find the house, and everything else, in shambles. The Alzheimer's had done more damage to Emily than you or Alice ever guessed. Your grandmother had neglected to keep up the insurance premiums on this property, and on herself. Unbeknownst to you, she'd taken a second mortgage out on the house to cover the college tuition and expenses your scholarships didn't. And then there was the first mortgage that she'd taken to pay off your grandfather's gambling debts, and to offset the expenses of raising you and Alice for the past fourteen years."

"And why did she do that?" Edward interrupted, gazing morbidly out over the water.

"Christ, Edward," Emmett mumbled. Why was he forcing him to bring up such painful shit? He swallowed another mouthful of beer before he spit the words out. "Because, after your parents and your aunt and uncle died together in that car crash, there was nothing left. Emily sold the building they'd constructed for their new medical practice, which paid off the loans they'd taken out to build it, and not much more. And then, when she started forgetting things at work, she was let go from the law office where she'd been a clerk most of her life."

Edward was still gazing out over the Sound, his eyes and thoughts far away. He was only half-listening to Emmett's narration of his family's painful past. For some reason, he kept thinking about his third piano recital at the age of eight, when he played last on the roster because he was already better than the older students under his instructor's tutelage. His parents had been bursting with pride. Dad never even mentioned him going into medicine like he had. Instead he started calling Edward, Junior "my future concert pianist."

Emmett drained his bottle and looked sideways at Edward. "Is that enough?"

Edward shook his head. "All of it."

Emmett huffed a sigh before continuing. "What more is there? You came home to a very ill grandmother, a dependent teenaged cousin and a fucking mountain of debt. You told me you'd just met with a financial wizard who started throwing around ideas like Welfare and state-funded hospitals and foster care for Alice until she was eighteen, or could be declared an emancipated minor. When he told you that the bank was about to foreclose on the house if you didn't come up with the past few months' back payments, you nearly hauled off and the slugged the guy."

A wan smile flitted over Edward's face. "I couldn't let them take this house," he said quietly.

"Right. You couldn't. So you did what you had to do to save it," Emmett told him emphatically, giving him a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before reaching into the cooler between them and extracting another beer. He popped off the top and took a draft. "You got your grandmother the specialized care she needs, in a nice place, with a staff who knows what they're doing. You saved the family home so Alice could stay here with you and finish school, instead of being carted off to those distant relatives of hers in the Midwest who don't have two nickels to rub together. You paid off your own student loans and even managed to pay part of Alice's tuition so she won't be in such massive debt when she graduates."

Emmett paused and stared at his friend until he turned weary eyes his way.

"You manned up, Edward. You took care of your family and yourself. Maybe it wasn't the perfect way, but you were desperate. I presented you an opportunity, and you took it. Don't beat yourself up over this anymore. You can still do other things with your life when your escort days are through, you know."

Edward nodded slowly, his face still tainted with bitterness. "Don't get me wrong, Emmett - I'm grateful for your help. I don't know what I would have done to keep my head above water back then. I was drowning. You threw me a lifesaver." He paused and sipped more beer. "Problem is, the lifesaver is starting to strangle me."

Emmett nodded, trying to understand. He, himself, had enjoyed his escort days immensely, for the most part. But when he considered that none of the women who hired him ever made him feel like a man the way Rosalie did, he realized why the business was getting to Edward.

"So, who is she?"

Edward was as startled by the question now as he had been last night, when his client demanded to know the same thing.

"What makes you think it's a she?"

"Sorry, I wasn't aware you were batting for the other team," Emmett replied with a twinkle in his eye. "Damn, why is it always the gay ones who make the best escorts?"

"Shut up," Edward retorted with a roll of his eyes. "Although you're right, Laurent is our number one requested guy, and he's more 'bi' than a bicycle."

Emmett suddenly shot up in his lounge chair, a light bulb seeming to go off in his head. "It's that girl from last weekend, isn't it? The little pale one with the big, dark eyes."

Edward felt his face grow warm, but chalked it up to the beer and too much sun.

"Ha, I knew it! I know your type, man. Sweet and unassuming on the outside, take-no-prisoners on the inside. Am I right?"

Edward couldn't help but smile. "You do know me well. And her, considering you met her for all of ninety seconds."

"Yeah, but she had that look in her eyes, like she already owned you and she knew it. And you were so clearly whipped. I should have known. Shit. Don't get whipped by a client, man! That's the number one rule, you know that. You let one of them in, and the next thing you know, you're the one getting screwed."

Edward only grinned some more, then shrugged helplessly. "I like her. She's different from anyone I've ever met. The minute I leave her, I want to see her again. Do you know how long it's been since I met a girl I couldn't wait to see again?"

Emmett shook his head sadly. "Yep. You're screwed."

"Never, that's how long," Edward continued, undaunted. "I can't remember the last time anyone made me feel that way. At Juilliard, I was so focused on my career that I didn't want to take the time to maintain an actual relationship. That's why I kind of enjoyed the escort business at first. No-strings sex was something I'd tried like hell to have all through college, and finally I was not only getting it, I was getting _paid_ for it. It was like winning the lottery twice."

Edward's grin faded. "But it didn't take long to realize what a hollow victory it was. When the novelty wore off, so did the satisfaction. Before I got in this business, I never imagined the day would come when sex would just be routine, like brushing my teeth every morning. But that's exactly where I was when I met Bella. I was at a point where I expected nothing. Wanted nothing. She couldn't have caught me more off guard."

Emmett was still shaking his head. "You poor bastard," he said with a sigh. "You're so fucked."

Edward nodded in futility. "Fucked."

"You're not doing anything stupid, are you?" Emmett asked in a warning tone. "Like trying to see her on the side?"

Edward's eyes flickered briefly to Emmett's, then back out over the water. "I don't know. I might be."

Emmett's groan was loud and foreboding. "I'm gonna pretend I didn't hear that. And if Rose asks me anything about why you're acting screwy lately, I will plead total ignorance."

"Am I acting screwy?"

"A little. Maybe no one else notices."

"My date last night noticed."

Emmett's look was one of mild horror. "Don't tell me. . ."

"Okay, I won't tell you that I almost couldn't get it up. I was so fucking tired, and I couldn't get Bella out of my head, especially one week to the day after I was with her. . ."

"I am not hearing this."

"Bella was a virgin. Did I tell you that? She was a fucking virgin and actually paid my sorry ass to be her first. How fucked up is that? It's, like, inconceivable to me. And yet that's what she wanted. _I_ was who she wanted. And she still wants me. She still sees something in me. . ."

Emmett groaned in defeat. His friend was far more gone than he ever suspected.

"How old is she, anyway? She looked young."

"She'll be twenty in a couple of weeks," Edward admitted, feeling a little sheepish.

Emmett groaned more loudly. "She's still in college? That is trouble, my friend. With a capital 'T.' She's too young."

"She's not _that _young -"

"She's too young," he reiterated sharply. "Forget about it. Call her up in a couple of years after she graduates and see if there's still something there. Maybe by then you'll have your finances in order enough to quit the business. But you're crazy if you're considering trying to keep something going with this girl right now."

Emmett could see his friend's reluctance to follow his advice. He turned sideways in his chair, leaning in to look Edward straight in the eyes. "I'm serious, man. You need to let this one go."

Edward's face had an expression Emmett had never seen before, a strange combination of desperation and determination.

"That's the thing," he said, his voice pulled tight as a drum. "I don't think I can."

# # # # # # # # # #

Alice Cullen stared at the book store queues in utter dismay.

"Disgust" was more like it. She couldn't even see the ends of the lines at first. They snaked through the store like dancing Chinese dragons on a congested parade route through Chinatown. She thought she'd found the end of one until a large, pasty-faced girl glared at her and barked, "Get to the back of the line! No cuts."

Alice hoisted her basketful of books higher on her hip and followed the string of people like a trail of breadcrumbs until she was almost out the front door.

"Shit," she muttered to herself, settling in for the long haul to reach a register. Edward was right - she shouldn't have procrastinated.

Edward was always right, much to her annoyance. Well, about most things. She would never agree with his decision to be an escort, even though the mountain of debt their grandmother had accrued looked insurmountable back then. She always thought there had to be a better way, especially with the talent he possessed. Even when Edward pointed out to her that he was making five times more money as an escort than he would have as a symphony pianist, and received a car and wardrobe allowance to boot, she kept trying to come up with a better idea. But she was only a teenager in high school, working as many part-time hours as she could manage in order to pitch in. She didn't have any easy answers.

But Edward thought he did. He even tried to tell her it was his dream job - it was every man's dream job. Alice knew better. She might have believed him if he'd been some womanizing man-whore all his life, but he was always quiet and even a little shy, never quite realizing just how attractive he was to the opposite sex. He was so absorbed in his musical ambitions that everything else, including girls, came second. That's why it killed her to watch him cut himself off from his lifelong dream just to take care of her and their grandmother, and to save that stupid old house. He'd treated his budding music career as if it were a limb he'd had to sever to get out of a trap, leaving it behind without so much as a single look back.

But she saw that phantom limb haunting him still, the ghost of it lingering in his wistful eyes. The pain of his sacrifice made her angry sometimes - made her wish horrible, irrational things. She often found herself hoping her grandmother would die soon, and then hated herself immediately afterward. But the truth was, so much of the woman she loved had disappeared already that the shell remaining seemed to exist primarily as a cruel joke on all of them. If Edward weren't paying for Emily's nursing home care, he might be able to handle the mortgages with a regular job instead of the quasi-illegal one to which he'd resorted. She knew why he was so attached to the house, and everything in it. It was all that remained of the family they'd both lost too soon.

Alice finally set her heavy shopping basket on the floor with a thud and an irritated sigh. She heard a soft chuckle in the queue to her left. She looked across a couple racks of U-Dub apparel to see a cute blond-haired boy giving her a lopsided grin. He nodded down at the floor where his own overflowing basket of books lay, then gave it a kick as his line inched forward.

"I decided I'd save my weight-lifting for the gym," he drawled in explanation. His accent earmarked him as a recent Seattle import from the south.

Alice giggled. "I'm saving my weight-lifting for. . . never," she replied.

He let out a short, deep laugh at that. "At least you're honest about it."

She shrugged and gave her own basket a kick after the person ahead of her moved up. "If we ever decide to take up soccer, though, we ought to be pros by the time we get to the register."

The blond boy's grin deepened. "I like how you think."

"I like how you talk. Where are you from?"

"Texas. Houston, originally," he added.

"Really? Cool. Are you a freshman?" she asked hopefully.

"No, a junior. But I just transferred here from Texas Tech, so I kind of feel like one."

"Well, I'm new to U-Dub, but not to Seattle. Maybe I can show you around sometime." Alice never believed in beating around the bush, and she already liked this Texas transplant, with his easy manner and easier smile.

"I'd like that," he said, his cheeks coloring slightly. He looked a little bashful, and it nearly drove her mad with attraction.

"I'm Alice, by the way," she called over the clothes racks, leaning through the t-shirts and offering her hand. "Alice Cullen."

"Jasper Whitlock," he replied, reaching through some sweatpants to grasp her hot little fingers in his. "It's a pleasure."

She squeezed his strong hand for a moment before letting go. "It most certainly is," she said under her breath.

"Come again?"

"Oh, I hope to," she answered with a grin.

Twenty feet ahead, Bella Swan's ears had perked up. Amidst the babble surrounding her station, she was sure she had heard the name "Cullen." Absolutely positive, in fact. She craned her neck and looked down the line, and the line of the register across from hers, vainly hoping to see Edward in the throng. But she realized quickly enough that she would have recognized that gravity-defying hair of his, sticking up above the mops of tamer, shorter heads around him. Her brief surge of excitement quickly died and she continued to scan books with the bored precision of a robot.

Alice and Jasper each reached their registers at approximately the same time and gave each other knowing grins across the aisle before lifting their baskets in unison.

"The finish line!" she exclaimed, which made Jasper emit one of those deep chuckles that already made a little zing of excitement shoot through her veins.

She slammed the heavy shopping basket atop the counter and gave the cashier a triumphant look. The girl's brown eyes widened for a moment, and then she let out a laugh as she looked into Alice's exultant face.

"Hey, reaching this cash register has been the ultimate triumph, like completing the Boston marathon. It's practically the pinnacle of my weekend," she said. "Which doesn't say much about my weekend, does it?"

She let out a rueful laugh, and the cashier joined her. When she began to lift her books from the basket, Alice quickly dove in to help her.

"Oh, you don't need to do that," the brown-eyed girl said, shooing her hand away.

"Are you kidding? You're the one standing here doing heavy lifting all day. Let me get them. Besides, I'd better get used to hauling them around campus, right?"

"Right," the cashier agreed. She let Alice retrieve the books and hand them to her one by one so she could scan them.

"Teamwork," Alice told her with a grin.

The girl bit her lip and grinned. "Yeah. Thanks."

"De nada," Alice replied, digging through her purse for her wallet. She handed her student I.D. to the cashier, who ran it through the sensor and then checked the signature on the back. Suddenly the girl's dark eyes widened, and she stared up at Alice with a stunned expression.

"What - is it declined?" Surely not. Edward didn't let things like exceeded credit limits happen.

"No, it's fine," the girl answered, staring at the card again, then Alice. "It's just - you aren't related to Edward Cullen, are you?"

Alice's eyes narrowed. Edward only used the surname "Cullen" when he was escorting. He didn't like to use his real name, though he never said why. Alice figured it was his way of removing himself slightly from what he was doing, though he'd often said that he should just change his name to "Cullen," to match that of his only surviving relatives. Either way, if this girl knew him as Edward Cullen, then she knew him through Renaissance Escorts.

Alice gave her a quick once-over. She didn't know what Edward's clients were usually like, but she couldn't imagine that this girl was typical. She was young and attractive, if a bit awkward. What would she be doing hiring a date?

"Edward is my brother," she replied. She figured this was a good test. Anyone who really knew Edward would know he was an only child, though Alice always considered him her brother. She was barely five when their parents died. She had only a few faded memories of them, but she had tons of memories of ten-year-old Edward moving into Em's house with her, being her playmate and later protector, just like a brother would.

"Brother?" The cashier's forehead crinkled and her face fell. "Oh. I'm sorry. I think it must be a different Edward Cullen, then."

Alice's interest was piqued. "Maybe," she said. "How do you know him?"

The girl's eyes flashed with something that looked a little like embarrassment. "He's a friend of mine, that's all," she said, averting her gaze as handed Alice her I.D.

"_I'm meeting a friend." _Edward's words from the other day echoed in Alice's ears. She studied the cashier again with interest. She wasn't even sure what Edward's type was, but if he had one, this girl might be it. Pretty, but not fussy; hard-working, honest-looking.

"Did you meet him Friday morning for breakfast?" Alice asked point blank.

The girl's eyes popped open again. "Yeah. Did he . . . mention me?"

Alice glanced surreptitiously at her nametag. "As a matter of fact, he did, Bella."

The girl's cheeks turned bubble-gum pink and her lips stretched into a bashful smile. Geez, what was with all these self-conscious, shy types? Alice was surrounded by them. She took a quick peek over her shoulder to make sure the other bashful one, Jasper, hadn't escaped during her conversation. He seemed to be lingering at the end of the counter, checking his bag, doing a book count. Shit, she didn't have much time - she didn't want that one to get away.

She turned curious eyes back to Bella, wondering how she'd met Edward, and exactly what she meant to him. He obviously meant something to her. But Edward had that effect on most women without even realizing it, the oblivious fool.

"Listen. Edward isn't really my brother, but he might as well be. I love him to death and I want nothing more than to see him happy. And the other morning, when he was leaving to meet you, he actually looked happy for the first time in a long time."

Bella looked even more pleased, if a little flustered; and Alice realized that this girl was one-hundred-percent gone over her cousin.

The question was, how did he feel about Bella?

Alice whipped her neck to the side to make sure Jasper hadn't left; he was ambling toward the door. She turned back to face Bella, then scrambled in her purse for a pen and some paper.

"This gum wrapper will have to do," she muttered. "Give me your phone number, would you? I'd like to talk to you some time about Edward. If that's okay," she added hurriedly.

Bella's eyes were round and fawn-like once more. "Sure," she said, then rattled off the numbers. Alice scribbled furiously and jammed the paper and pen back in her purse.

"Thanks, Bella. It was great to meet you. I'll call you soon!"

And with that she was sprinting for the door, not caring how forward that might look to the laid-back Jasper Whitlock.

Bella stood gaping after her, wondering what had just happened. The loud smack of another customer's books hitting her countertop diverted her attention from the aftermath of Hurricane Alice. She had no choice but to return to the drudgery of her job and hope that particular storm would revisit her soon.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry I didn't answer many reviews this week - I've been on vacation and enjoying a little time off. Hope you all are having a great summer! Thanks SO much for your support, even when things get angsty. I promise some relief (and alone time! ;-) for our beleaguered couple in the next chapter. Well, as much relief as possible while there's still that big elephant in the room. . .<strong>

**Special thanks to Cared for putting together Pic Teases for The Agreement earlier this week! Hope you all enjoyed the little sneak peek at Edward hangin' with Emmett. Not sure you all liked the advice he gave our boy, but he's just telling it like he sees it. But I'm pretty sure he'll have Edward's back if push ever comes to shove.**


	26. Chapter 26

_How were your classes today_?

Bella grinned as broadly at the text message on her phone today as she had every other day this week. It arrived at approximately 4:45 p.m. Thursday, just as it had on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday. Edward was nothing if not methodical.

_They were good, _she typed, thumbs flying over the tiny keyboard. _Same as Tuesday's classes, you realize. But less overwhelming since I knew what to expect._

_The first week of class is always the hardest, _he replied.

_I know. Feels like an insurmountable pile of homework when I look at the syllabus for the whole semester. But I always manage to get it all done._

_My cousin is a freshman, so she's feeling overwhelmed, too. I reminded her it takes a little time to get into the routine. You're both smart girls - you'll do fine._

_Thanks for the vote of confidence, _Bella answered. She was dying to ask Edward if Alice had mentioned meeting her, but since Alice hadn't called her yet and Edward never brought it up, she assumed the answer was "no."

Edward's next message made a little surge of excitement rush through her. _Do you have to work all weekend?_

_No, I have Sunday off. _She had intended to use that time to study, but if Edward had any other ideas in mind, she'd crack the books the rest of the weekend instead. She wasn't interested in repeating last weekend's party fiasco anyway, so laying low Friday and Saturday night didn't sound like a bad idea.

_Really? I'm free Sunday, too. Do you want to get together? We could go to a movie or something - whatever you like._

The adrenaline was pumping through Bella's veins full throttle now. _Sounds great. If it's nice we could go to the park again, or the beach. Didn't your profile say you enjoy running on the beach? I don't run, per se, but I'd be happy to watch you do it. I could time you on a stopwatch or something. _

She paused to imagine the lean muscles of Edward's legs pumping up and down in slow motion, Baywatch style, kicking sand up behind him. Her mind was still preoccupied when the phone buzzed with his incoming text.

_Either one sounds good to me. But if I'm running, you're running with me. _

_Ugh. How about a leisurely stroll, then?_

_You're forcing me to type "LOL." I hate that. Strolling it is. I'm going to spend the next few days imagining you strolling in a bikini. Please tell me you'll be wearing one._

Bella would have stood up and done a euphoric little dance if she wasn't sitting on a bench in the middle of the busy quad.

_Fine. I'll wear my bikini if you wear your little black Speedo, _she typed back, chuckling to herself. She laughed even harder at how long it took him to reply.

_You're kidding, right?_

_What do you think?_

_I think you're in for a soaking when I toss you in the Sound._

_Bring it on, Cullen. I'm not afraid of you._

_You may live to regret that, Ms. Swan. What time shall I pick you up?_

_From my dorm, or to toss me into the Sound?_

_Your dorm. I'll definitely be employing the element of surprise for the latter._

_Any time is fine, _she replied, laughing giddily and not caring who heard. She wanted to tell him to come first thing in the morning so they could spend as much time together as possible, but she didn't want to sound too pathetic and needy.

_How about 1:00 p.m.? I thought we could grab some dinner later, too - after you've dried off._

Her leg began bouncing up and down with anticipation as she typed. _Sounds great. But if you try to dunk me in that icy water, I'm dragging you down with me._

_I look forward to seeing you try._

_I look forward to seeing you, period. _So much for not sounding desperate.

_Me too. Trust me on that._

She did trust him on that, foolish as that might be. She knew if she was counting on logic to guide her in this unorthodox relationship she was forming with Edward, she was doomed to failure. Logic would have dictated that she abandon the idea the day after he accomplished what she paid him to. But rational thinking had nothing to do with the emotions seizing her every time she saw him or even thought about him. If she couldn't walk away, then she had no choice but to follow her heart for as long as she was able.

She had already run the gamut of emotions over the past week while she considered whether or not she could deal with what Edward did for a living. She figured she'd already hit rock bottom last weekend, from her behavior at the party and the mortifying hangover it caused her, to her failed date with Mike and her late-night anxiety over the course Edward's date had taken.

Sunday was a little better, since she had work to distract her. And of course there was the pleasant surprise of meeting Edward's cousin Alice, who seemed nice, if a bit of a trip. Bella had the feeling she would like her if she got the chance to know her. She was a little disappointed Alice hadn't contacted her yet. She looked forward to being able to talk to someone, anyone, about Edward. Heaven knows she wasn't about admit to her mom and dad what she'd done, and her best friend from high school, Angela, was still in Europe studying at the Sorbonne.

Bella was grateful when classes started on Monday, because her concentration was consumed by lectures, note-taking, required reading and homework. She didn't have time to think about what Edward was doing, and each day that passed without seeing him made the wondering a little easier to handle, and the worrying a little less.

But she knew that once she saw him again, the hunger and yearning for him would ignite deep in her belly once more. It still visited her in the wee hours of the night, prompting her to stoke it, then extinguish it, with her own probing fingers in the absence of his. She refused to look at the contents of the pink plastic baggy, let alone use them. She would wait for the real thing.

And now, happily, she had a deadline for her waiting to be through. Two days and twenty hours, to be exact.

She settled back on the bench and pulled her art history textbook out of her backpack. She opened it to chapter one and was greeted with photographs of the first known sculpture of a human figure, the Venus of Hohle Fels, which predated the previously known oldest carving, the Venus of Willendorf. Small but explicit depictions of the nude female form, both were thought to have been created as fertility symbols by primitive peoples tens of thousands of years ago.

Some things never changed, it seemed. As she studied the photos of the crude renderings, she understood her own desires a little better. What she felt for Edward was as primal and enduring as these miniature stone tributes to the power and importance of sex. The ancient urge to mate was what had driven her to seek him out in the first place.

But there was something more than sex pulling her back to him, and obviously something beyond sex drawing him to her. Otherwise, he wouldn't be going to the effort to see her again. She would have to concentrate on the attraction they shared beyond the physical if she were to continue seeing Edward. She needed to know more about him - his history, his motivations, his goals, his dreams. She wanted more than just the glimpses he'd given, or she'd managed to steal. She wanted his whole story, past and present. But most of all, she wanted his future.

She only wondered if she could survive the journey to get there.

# # # # # # # # # #

"So," Alice mumbled through a generous mouthful of blueberry pancakes. "I met your friend Bella the other day at the book store."

She flashed Edward a quick glance across the breakfast bar to make sure he looked as startled and guilty as she expected him to. Then she blithely turned her attention to her glass of orange juice, taking a gulp to wash down her food before spearing another forkful of pancakes.

"You met Bella?" he echoed warily, waiting until he'd swallowed his own mouthful before speaking. He knew his cousin had gone to the U-Dub book store on Sunday, and it was now Friday morning. "Why didn't you say anything before?"

"I was waiting to see if you'd mention her again. You actually looked happy for once before you went to see her, but then you never said another word about her. I guess you aren't as into her as she is you."

She shrugged nonchalantly and sipped more orange juice while she waited for him to take the bait.

"How do you know - " he began, then started over. "What did she say that made you think she's into me?"

Alice laughed. "She didn't have to say anything. Her face turned ten shades of red when I told her how happy you looked last Friday morning before you met her for breakfast - happier than I'd seen you in a long time."

She smiled sweetly at her cousin and watched his own face color.

"You told her that? Thanks. That was subtle."

Her grin only stretched wider. "You're welcome. You know I don't believe in subtlety. It's the seed that sprouts miscommunication and misunderstanding. So don't go telling me this Bella girl is just some friend of yours. You look as twitter-pated right now as she did, and that's all I need to know. But I am curious as to how you fell for one of your customers," she finished with an inquisitive look.

Edward shook his head. He should have known better than to ever outwit his baby cousin. "And how do you know she's a customer?"

"She saw my name on my student I.D. and asked if I was related to Edward _Cullen_. I told her you were my brother, to see how much she knew about you. She knew enough to know you don't have a sister, but not enough to know your real last name. Which leads me to believe she knows you better than most of your customers do, but not well enough to know all your secrets. Yet," she added portentously.

He let out a soft snort. "Nice work, Sherlock. So what do you plan to do with your findings?"

"Good question. I did get her phone number, but I haven't called her yet. And I won't, if you're not cool with it." She wondered if she could really keep that promise. If it looked like Edward was about to fuck this up, and chances were excellent that he would, then she wasn't above intervening to help him in spite of himself.

He shook his head once more. "Do whatever you like. I know damned well I couldn't stop you if I wanted to." He wasn't sure he wanted to stop her. He had what Alice might call "a warm fuzzy" when he thought of her befriending Bella.

"True, you couldn't," Alice agreed with a self-congratulatory smile. "I will definitely call her, then, when I get a minute. But right now my head is spinning with all the homework I already have. And I'm working a lot of hours this weekend, too."

"Tell the restaurant you need to cut back a little now. I don't want your grades to suffer. School is your number one priority right now. Let me worry about the rest."

"You worry enough already. If I can't handle the load, I'll tell Sophia, I promise. But I won't tell her about Bella and crush her hopes. Not until I get a chance to scope this girl out and see if she's cool."

Edward let out something between a chuckle and a groan. "Great. I thought that with Mom and Dad gone, I'd avoid having any future girlfriends interrogated and judged for suitability. But you may actually be worse than they would have been."

Alice ignored the insult and zeroed in on the admission. "So you _are _considering her as a girlfriend! Holy shit, Edward. This is huge. Do you even realize?" She had stopped eating altogether and was staring at him in huge, hazel-eyed shock. "You don't do the girlfriend thing. You never have. I'm not sure I've ever heard you even utter the word. Wow. She must have done some number on you. Now I really do need to meet her. I want to know how she did it."

"Christ," he muttered, pushing his mostly-empty plate away. "I think your time would be better spent worrying about your own love life. The point will probably be moot, anyway, since I'm sure that sooner or later, Bella won't be able to put up with my occupation any better than your sainted Sophia or any other normal girl would."

He bolted from his seat, gathered his dirty dishes and headed for the dishwasher, half-ignoring Alice's impassioned reply.

"All the more reason for you to quit! We can get by on less, Edward. People do it all the time. They clip coupons, shop in discount stores and resale shops -"

"We already do that," he interrupted in a mutter.

" - and live in much less expensive places. Think how much we could save if we sold this house, and all these old antiques. Em doesn't even remember the significance of this stuff anymore."

"_I _remember," Edward shot back, slamming the dishwasher door shut. "Maybe you don't have any memories of our family - you were too young - but I do. We've already lost everyone we love, Alice. I'll be damned if I let everything they ever worked for slip away, too."

"But these are just things, Edward," she argued. "They can't take the place of the people we lost. And we can't lose our family completely, anyway. They're in our hearts forever. Besides, do you really think your mother or father would've wanted you to sacrifice everything the way you have, just to keep a bunch of inanimate objects in our possession? They probably rather would have seen you living in a cardboard box as long as you were following your passion instead of throwing it all away."

Edward was seething now, smarting from her jab at his most sensitive spot. "Trust me, I know very well they would not have agreed with my choices. And maybe the rash decision I made wasn't the best one. But I won't feel guilty for taking care of our grandmother after all she went through and all she did for us. I won't feel guilty for saving the house our ancestors built. I won't feel guilty for trying to hang onto the only thing that gives me a sense of family or stability anymore."

"I'm not saying you should feel guilty. I'm just saying maybe it's time to look for a different way, now that things are a little more under control, that's all," she pleaded.

"Things are under control because of the money I make, Alice. If I were playing the piano for peanuts instead, you'd be living in Kentucky right now with your mother's second cousin, and Em would be tied to a bed in the dementia wing of some understaffed state-run nursing home."

"You don't know that," she retorted, trying not to roll her eyes at the worst-case scenario he presented. "You have so much talent, Edward. You have no idea how far you could have gone if you'd stuck with it the past two years."

He emitted a woeful laugh. "I love that you have that kind of faith in me, Alice, I really do. But you don't know what I saw, what I heard. Guys like me are a dime a dozen at Juilliard. I practiced fucking night and day just to keep my scholarships. I fought tooth and nail for every solo, every opportunity to stand out from the crowd. To stay at that competitive level would have taken a lot more time and energy than I could give after Em got so sick."

Alice took a deep breath and raised her eyes to the ceiling, perhaps looking for strength from a higher power. "All right, fine. You win." She dropped her head in defeat. She was weary of this battle. They'd had the same argument repeatedly for two years, and he always had more justifications for his choices than she had energy to refute them. She was just glad he hadn't defended himself by reminding her that at least he wasn't selling drugs or pimping out women for money. Of course, she didn't see how pimping himself was so different.

But Edward did. This way, he reasoned, he was only hurting himself. And that helped him sleep a little better at night. Or it did, before he met Bella.

He sighed heavily and took a stab at changing the subject. "Do you have any classes today?"

"Just one - lecture hall for Western Civ. Then I'll probably study at the library for a while before work."

She didn't bother to ask what he was doing because she figured she wouldn't want to hear the answer. She still wasn't looking at him; she concentrated on her breakfast instead.

"Sounds like a plan," Edward said lamely. He ran his fingers awkwardly through his hair and headed out of the kitchen. "I'll see you later, then. Be safe. I love you."

Alice mumbled incoherently but still didn't look up. He wandered into the living room and, as always, the empty space where the piano used to be yawned like a black hole before him. His fingers continued to claw his hair restlessly, searching for their favorite outlet. He desperately needed the release.

He pulled his cell phone from his back pocket and dialed one of the few client numbers he had in his possession, then paced the floor as it rang. The sound of her voice was sweet relief.

"Hi, it's Edward. I'm sorry to bother you, but if you don't have any plans today, would it be all right if I came over?"

# # # # # # # # # #

Charlotte Rhinehart checked herself in the mirror once more, feeling a bit foolish as she did so, but unable to stop herself. It wasn't often that Edward invited himself over in between their usual visits, and when he did, it usually meant that he was upset about something. He would never say what, exactly, but the passionate, mournful music he chose to play always gave him away.

Today turned out to be no different. When he arrived, he gave her the briefest of hugs and a perfunctory greeting; then asked if he could sit at the piano for a while. She waved him away to the conservatory without reservation, then sat in the next room, as was her habit, so that she could enjoy the music without disrupting his concentration.

Today, that concentration was fierce. He attacked the keys as if he had a score to settle with them. Even to her untrained ears, the music was clearly challenging and wildly dissonant, its tones and rhythms changing constantly in a perfect sonic storm. He repeated several passages until they were perfect, scowling at his flubs, then smiling in grim satisfaction when he finally performed the entire piece flawlessly.

He was still sitting at the bench, taking deep breaths, hands gripping his knees when Charlotte entered the room and showered him with applause. He cocked one eyebrow at her and grinned.

"That was quite amazing. A very difficult piece, yes?"

"Yeah. I performed it for my final at Juilliard. I like to revisit it every now and then just to make sure I can still play it."

"Ah. I was right," Charlotte said with a satisfied smile as she rested an elbow atop the piano. "I assumed you'd attended some prestigious music school the first time I heard you play."

Edward looked a bit surprised. "I guess I never told you that, huh? Sorry. It's not something I really like to talk about."

"Your fingers do the talking for you," she replied. "That was truly masterful, my dear. And I'm not talking about the technical perfection, either. I'm talking about the passion, the fury you put into every note. It's nothing short of astonishing. Music is all about feeling, and that's where you truly shine. You don't let the technique interfere with the emotion. That's what allows the music to soar and transcend the notes. Do you know what I'm saying?"

Edward looked up at her in wonder. "I know exactly what you're saying. Ironically, I think that I've gotten better at that since I quit school and don't get to play as much. It forces me to channel all my frustration into something more powerful, I guess."

"Perhaps life's trials have given you more empathy for the human condition, and that only enriches the music that comes out of you. Another sad irony, that suffering can create great art."

"So they say," Edward agreed with a rueful smile. "Maybe I should be grateful for the hard knocks, then?" He snorted softly.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," Charlotte said with a laugh. "Happiness can create great art, too, as far as I'm concerned. And I'd certainly like to see you get your fair share. Certainly no one deserves it more."

"I think that's debatable," he countered darkly.

Charlotte gave him a warning look that prompted him to explain himself.

"I've made a lot of mistakes. I feel like I keep making them. Maybe I'm just reaping what I've sown."

"Good heavens, are you trying to tell me you're human?" she retorted with a sly grin. "I'll get the guillotine ready, then. Mistakes are unforgivable. Not only do you not deserve happiness, I'm not altogether sure you deserve to live."

Edward laughed in spite of himself. "All right, fine. Point taken. You always make me smile, Charlotte, you know that?"

"It works both ways," she replied, beaming herself. "Now, would you like to tell me what happened between this week and last? You were high as a kite last Wednesday. This Wednesday, you barely spoke when you came over; you just sat at this piano for hours, which is fine by me. But this impromptu visit has me wondering what's gone so wrong in the span of a few short days. Does it have something to do with that young girl you're interested in? What did you say her name was, again?"

"It's Bella," he answered with a smile before his forehead creased. "Nothing's wrong, exactly. Or maybe everything is. She's given me a lot to think about, I guess."

Charlotte nodded. "Maybe a reevaluation of your life is in order. There are worse things than taking stock, you know."

"I know. That's what Alice says, too. But it's happening so fast . . . I'm just not sure what to do."

Her heart ached for the troubled young man before her. She wanted to wave a magic wand and take his pain away, if only he would let her.

"My offer still stands, you know," she reminded him gently.

He still flinched at her words. "Thank you. I do appreciate that. But I'm not sure how that would really help anything. I'd just owe you instead of the bank. And before you tell me I don't have to repay you, I don't think I could live with myself if I just took a handout from you, okay?"

"Okay," she said, though she wanted to throttle him for his stubborn male pride. "Just think about it, that's all I'm asking."

He nodded, but still looked reluctant. She decided it was time to move on to a less touchy subject. "Would you like to play some more, or join me in a game? I'm in dire need of brushing up my poker skills. Your tutelage would come in handy, as I'm considering joining a card circle in the neighborhood."

His face brightened. "You should definitely do that. You're a natural. You've already got your poker face down, so the rest should be a cinch."

"All right, then. Why don't you fetch the card deck for us? It's in the sitting room desk. I'll join you shortly."

She watched his tall, lanky form lope out of the conservatory, and shook her head at the slew of conflicting feelings he stirred within her. Above all, though, she longed to see him content. She suspected this Bella held the key to his happiness, if he could only see his way clear to letting her unlock it.

_Bella. _She wondered again if Edward's crush was the same girl who'd nearly mowed her down outside the church Sunday, but was adorably apologetic about it afterward. She'd asked Pastor Tim about the girl, but he'd learned little about her, other than her first name and her appreciation for fine art. As soon as he'd told Charlotte the girl's name, her interest had been piqued. She hoped Bella would return some Sunday so she could find out more about her.

Charlotte walked around the piano and pushed in the bench, then approached the bookcase behind it. She reached up to the highest shelf and retrieved a small recording device from between a long row of books. She checked to make sure it was working, then hit the "stop" button, stifling a slightly devious grin. She supposed she ought to feel guilty for having secretly recorded several of Edward's practice sessions, but she couldn't quite seem to regret it. She'd enjoyed downloading and listening to his beautiful music in between visits, for one. But truth be told, she had a deeper motive behind her actions. She was merely waiting for the right moment to give him the nudge he needed.

She had decided long ago that if Edward refused to help himself, then she would.

* * *

><p><strong>I must apologize for lying to you all. I didn't mean to, honestly! I promised some lemony fun for Edward and Bella in this chapter, but Alice and Charlotte had a few things to say first. Besides, I think our couple's day at the beach deserves its own chapter, maybe more. ;-) Their date absolutely WILL be the focus of Chapter 27, and maybe beyond.<strong>

**As always, I am forever grateful for the positive feedback, favorites and alerts from you all. You keep me going, truly. And to my fic-pimpers on Twitter, you are da bomb! That is all.**

**Thanks to Songster for hanging in there through the angst and rec'ing this story on The Fictionators! And special thanks to Cared for her weekly offers to submit story teasers for me, even though my posting schedule doesn't work very well with sneak peeks on Mondays. Your kindness, insights and words of inspiration are invaluable, and a true blessing. xoxo**

**Now I shall wait to see if the intrepid Carson Dyle or NYCAlways82 report any typos to me on this chapter... ;D**


	27. Chapter 27

"I feel like I'm in a Volvo car commercial."

Edward squinted over at Bella as she reclined dramatically against the sumptuous leather interior of his convertible, trying to smooth the hair that whipped around her head in a tempestuous dark cloud.

"You look like you're in a car commercial, too," he said with a grin. "Very sexy." He reluctantly turned his eyes back to the road so he wouldn't miss the Dravus Street exit.

"I feel sexy," she replied. He glanced over in time to see an eyebrow raise provocatively over the rim of her Ray-Bans. Then the wind slapped a thick lock of hair across her face, and he laughed while she spit it out of her mouth.

"I can put the top up if it's too windy," he offered.

"No way! This is awesome. A sunny day in Seattle - film at eleven."

"You do love the sun," he murmured, half to himself. He shook his head in wonder that everything she'd ever done or said had left such a vivid imprint in his mind, like experiencing his first Technicolor movie after a lifetime of only black and white.

Bella fished in her backpack until she procured a small black hair band, then pulled her tangled locks into a thick tail and secured them at the nape of her neck.

"Voila," she announced with a triumphant grin. Then she leaned back, face upturned to the sun, as if to soak it in all the better. Her ivory cheeks had turned rosy already from exposure, and Edward frowned slightly.

"Did you put on some sunscreen? I don't want you to get burned," he advised.

Bella only laughed. "Not yet. I decided to let you do the honors when we get to the beach."

Her eyebrow raised again, and so did Junior. He felt it struggling against the layers of swim trunks and cargo shorts that ensnared it. Edward squirmed a little in his seat, trying to adjust himself.

"You enjoy tormenting me, don't you?"

"Very much so," she answered with a mischievous grin. "Don't worry, I plan to make sure you're well-covered in sun-block, too. I don't want those sexy moles of yours to turn all crazy and malignant on me."

"Heaven forbid," Edward agreed. He tried to keep his eyes on the road, while Junior danced in anticipation of Bella's hands on its owner's skin. The two of them had been looking forward to this date with a longing neither of them was used to. By the time Sunday had arrived, Edward was sure that he'd built up Bella in his mind to ridiculous proportions. Why had he made her the shining beacon of his dark existence? Surely he was placing far too much importance on the connection he felt with her. It was time to bring his growing obsession down a notch and get real. She was just a girl. A young one, at that, like Emmett pointed out. It was unrealistic to expect anything good to come of this situation.

But when she opened the door of her dorm room today and smiled up at him, he knew it was no use. Everything within him sparked to life, like she was premium fuel to his engine. And now he thrummed along in time to the motor of the C70 beneath them, taking them on a journey from which he was increasingly certain there was no return.

He glanced over at Bella, hoping to see her mirror his anticipation. But instead her brows were knitted as she ran her hand along the buttery leather interior of his car.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," she said quickly. Her smile was forced.

"What is it?" he demanded.

_Busted again_, she thought. Why could she hide nothing from him?

"I'm just curious about something." She paused, not knowing how to continue.

He waited, but as always, his patience fizzled quickly. "Just say it. You can ask me anything."

She wanted to laugh and ask, "But will you answer?" Instead, she took a deep breath and voiced her real question.

"Well, I know that you started being an escort because you had a lot of debt and expenses to pay off. So . . . I guess I'm just wondering how you can afford a car like this." She bit her lip and gave him a wary glance.

"I can't," he answered. She was relieved he didn't seem offended. "It's essentially a company car. Rosalie makes sure her employees show up for their dates dressed to impress, and that includes the transportation they arrive in. When I first started in this line of work, that was a definite perk for me. Having my car paid for meant one less bill for me to worry about, and Alice could drive our grandmother's car whenever she needed it for school or work.

"Which reminds me," he added, eyes narrowing behind his own sunglasses. "Why didn't you tell me you met my cousin last weekend?"

Her surprise was easy to see despite the dark glass over her eyes. "I . . . I don't know. She said she'd call me sometime, but she never did, so . . ." She bit her lip in that way that always drove him crazy. "I guess I didn't know how you'd feel about me befriending your family behind your back. Does that sound weird?"

"A little," he replied. "Why would I mind you being friends with Alice?"

She shrugged, wondering how to explain. "I don't know. I just didn't want you to think I was trying to insinuate myself into your life, like some creepy stalker. It was a total coincidence that she and I met."

"Maybe there are no coincidences." He'd never been a fatalist before, but maybe that was changing. He had a strange sense of the puzzle pieces of his life coming closer together. He just wasn't sure how they were all going to fit into the big picture quite yet. Hell, he didn't even know what the big picture was. All he knew was that the girl sitting next to him was suddenly the biggest, and most unexpected, piece of that puzzle. She gave him hope that the picture would be clear someday. He wondered what he could possibly give her in return.

"I think it would be nice if you and Alice became friends," he said, trying to sound casual. "A lot of her high school friends went to different colleges, so she could use some on campus who know their way around."

"The same thing happened to me. My best friend from high school is in Europe. And I was too busy studying to make any lasting friends last year. I kind of feel like I'm starting over now." She didn't tell him that her foray into hired sex was part of the plan, but he'd already figured that out the night they met. Sometimes when he looked at her, she felt completely exposed even when she was fully dressed. Even when she peered at him from behind dark, protective gray shades.

He was looking at her like that now from behind his own sunglasses. His lips twitched in that little grin of his, and she squirmed at the tingles that spread between her thighs.

"I think everyone deserves at least one do-over in life," he said. "We'll have to toast to new beginnings later," he said.

"Sounds good. Did you bring wine?"

"Nope. Gatorade will have to do." His grin broadened, and he turned his adorable face back to road as they took a right onto 20th Street.

Bella laughed and assured him she loved Gatorade. "And tell Alice to call me," she added.

"Oh, she will. She was waiting for my blessing, too, if you can believe that." Edward shook his head, baffled. "Am I that bad? Am I that much of a hard-ass?"

"No. Just stubborn."

"How can you know that already? We just met."

"I can tell. You get something in your head and there's no swaying you. Am I right?"

He snorted in her direction. "Takes one to know one."

She smiled. "Maybe. But I still think you're more immovable than I am. I like to look at all sides of an issue. I have the feeling you always think your side is the right one."

His shrug was cavalier. "That's because it is." He tried to keep a straight face, but his grin only grew wider.

"What am I getting myself into?" She meant it as a joke, but it hung in the air with more weight than she intended.

Edward fell silent, because he had no good answer for her. He concentrated on following Government Way down to 36th Avenue. It wouldn't be much further now.

"Have you ever been to Discovery Park?" he asked at last.

Bella breathed a sigh of relief. She'd spent the last two minutes trying to figure out how to take back what she'd said. She was surprised he hadn't taken the opportunity to give her an easy out from what he deemed their "impossible situation." He had every time before.

"No, I've never been there, believe it or not. Is that where you go to run?"

"Yeah, sometimes. I like it because it really feels like you're away from the city, even though it's so close to downtown. We'll have to walk about a mile and a half down to the beach, so it's a good thing you wore your sneakers."

"You're going to try to get me to jog yet, aren't you?"

He gave her that gorgeous, lopsided grin. "You might want to race me. Last one to the shore has to sunbathe in the nude."

"Ha!" she exclaimed. "In your dreams. Besides, you wouldn't want me to get arrested, would you?"

"Oh, it's doubtful you would. This place is known for nude sunbathing. You probably won't be the only one if you decide to go _au natural_."

Bella stared at him, trying to determine if he was joking. "You aren't seriously taking me to a nude beach, are you?"

He tried to keep his poker face intact. "It's not a nude beach, per se. But the naturalists like to come here and let it all hang out - literally. To make a statement, I guess. The human body is beautiful, Bella. Especially yours. You should embrace it."

She was gaping at him in mild terror, and it was all he could do to keep from erupting in laughter.

"Look, I'm no prude. I'm all for embracing the beauty of the human body or whatever. I mean, I took a life drawing class this semester, so I'm going to have to draw naked people at least once a week. But that doesn't mean I have to expose myself to every Tom, Dick or Harry who happens to walk by me on the beach."

Edward could no longer contain his laughter. "I don't want you exposing yourself, either, trust me. Well, not to anyone but me." He side-eyed her meaningfully, and warmth radiated from her nether regions until it crept all the way up her face.

"Good. I want the same thing." Her look was twice as meaningful as his, and his smile faded. He deftly changed the subject before the usual elephant sat its giant ass down between them.

"So, back up a minute. You're drawing naked people this semester? What kind of class is that?"

"Life Drawing," she reiterated, sounding somewhat defensive. "The main emphasis is studying and drawing the human form. We have models posing in various positions so we can try to capture the muscle and bone structure of the body. I guess they'll be nude a good chunk of the time, according to the instructor. Right now we're just drawing each other - facial portraits, from across the room. Our easels are in a big circle, so we draw whomever is straight across from us. But the models will show up in a week or two."

"Interesting. Male or female?"

"Both."

"Huh." He didn't like the thought of her staring at naked guys all day, and again realized the taste of his own medicine wasn't so sweet.

Bella looked out the window, keeping her satisfied grin to herself. She liked the idea of being able to level the playing field a little between them, even superficially. Though this was hardly a game they were playing, she still savored each small victory, each piece of evidence that Edward was in as deep she as she was.

"Tell you what," she suggested. "I've got a pen and notebook in my backpack. Since you're all hot to take your clothes off today, you can be my practice model and pose for me on this nude beach."

It was Edward's turn to guffaw. "I didn't say I was hot to take my clothes off. I'm just hot for you to do it."

"What kind of double standard is that? What's good for the goose is good for the gander. If I'm frolicking naked in the surf, then so are you."

Edward's eyebrows shot skyward. "You're actually considering it?"

She shrugged. "Maybe." That was a bald-faced lie, so she tried to perfect her own poker face.

Before he turned on West Emerson to head for the south parking lot, he paused and studied her closely. He leaned in so he could find her eyes between their twin sunglass barriers.

"Be careful, Bella. I might call you on your bluff."

"Go for it," she answered.

"Oh, I intend to."

Their grins were a matched set as they headed toward Discovery Park.

# # # # # # # # # #

"This view is amazing. No wonder you like to come here," Bella said in awe.

She and Edward stood at the top of the bluff, looking out over the Sound and the Olympic Mountains to the west. Backpacks in tow, they had traversed a beautiful meadow until they reached a fork in the road. One path would lead them through the woods, while the other would take them down the steep bluff to the water below.

"It is pretty awesome," he agreed, taking in the majestic scenery before them. "Kind of puts your everyday worries into perspective."

"Yeah," she agreed softly. Though she and Edward had come across plenty of other hikers and runners so far, there was still a feeling of solitude surrounding them as they trucked along the path through the wilderness. Edward took her hand whenever the trails became rough or steep, and now was no different.

"We'll go down the South Beach Trail," he said, nodding to the left. "We can always come back up the Loop Trail and use the access road if you're too tired to take the bluff trail later."

"No way. I'm not a pussy," she protested, taking his hand.

He chuckled and entwined his fingers through hers. "Come on, tough girl."

He led her down the steep path toward the beach. The warmth of Edward's hand in hers matched that of the sun on her face, seeping clear down to her bones. All she could think was, _This is what happiness feels like. _

"This isn't a very good place for sunbathing," he admitted as they made their way down to the rugged shoreline. The dark, sandy beach stretching out before them was littered with driftwood and rocky outcrops. "But it's a lot more private. I didn't really want to go to someplace crowded like Golden Gardens. I hope that's okay."

"It's perfect." She squeezed his hand and walked side by side with him along the pebbled sand, enjoying the sound of the waves washing along the shore. In the distance a couple threw a Frisbee back and forth, and a few kids played in the thick, wet sand while their parents chaperoned from nearby blankets.

"You want to walk to the lighthouse at West Point?" he asked.

"Sure." She nodded her consent, and they headed down the coastline, watching distant boats sail across the Sound. Edward looked over at Bella, still feeling almost startled to see her there, like he couldn't believe his good fortune. Her cheeks were glowing, hopefully from the same euphoria he felt inside; but then he remembered that she said she hadn't put any sun-block on yet. Her skin was far too fair to last an afternoon by the water without protection. He looked around and spied a secluded spot near a boulder, piles of driftwood providing shelter on the other side.

"Maybe we should rest here for a minute and put on some sunscreen before we both fry," he suggested, gesturing to the sandy alcove.

"Good idea," she agreed. She followed him to the spot and opened her backpack, drawing out a beach towel; but when she looked over at Edward, he had already removed a large quilt from his pack and was spreading it over the ground.

"Wow! Nice," she commented as she took in the ornate, if faded, patchwork design. "Too nice to ruin at the beach."

"Nah, this is an old quilt," he assured her. "I use it for outdoor stuff. My great-grandmother made dozens of them, so we might as well put them to use."

"Okay," she said with a shrug, dropping her folded towel onto the quilt as a makeshift pillow. She kicked off her sneakers and watched Edward do the same. Then they stopped and looked at one another, a sudden tension springing to life between them. They were each staring at the other's worn t-shirt and shorts, wondering what lay beneath. Bella was itching for Edward to pull that faded cotton over his head. Edward couldn't wait to see her wriggle out of her blue jean cut-offs.

He cleared his throat and took a step closer - close enough to reach out and slide his fingers under the neckline of her vintage 80s new-wave shirt.

"So, what color is Bella Swan's bathing suit?" he mused aloud, his lips pursing provocatively as she waited with bated breath. "I've been wondering about this all week." He pulled gently at the knit fabric of her shirt until a spaghetti strap the color of fresh snow was revealed.

"White," he murmured, running his fingers over the strap and the skin around it. "Pure white. Virginal, even."

His smirk was subtle; knowing. She was offering herself up to him a second time. No one had touched her since he had, and the thrill of it was equal to the guilt that he'd made no such covenant to her.

She exhaled slowly, trying to keep from shaking. The mere touch of his fingers on her collarbone sent tremors down to her toes. Despite the sunglasses, his gaze seared her like it had that first night when he'd made her twirl for him in front of the window.

"Let me see the rest," he ordered softly.

He dropped his hand and waited. He was going to make her undress for him, damn him. She was definitely trembling now, despite the heat from the sun and his shielded eyes.

She reached for the hem of her t-shirt and slowly pulled upward, revealing several inches of pale flesh above her tight shorts. Then she grabbed the tee decisively in both hands and yanked it over her head, inhaling sharply, her breasts rising with the movement before she tossed the shirt on the quilt beside them. She felt her nipples pebble beneath her swimsuit as the sea breeze brushed over her. Then she pushed her sunglasses atop her head and squinted up at Edward, feeling triumphant at the expression on his face.

His mouth hung slack and his eyes darted up and down her body like the marble in a pinball machine, unable to rest in one place for long. They traveled over her ivory skin, only a few shades darker than her swimsuit; they took in the delicate architecture of her neck, shoulders and arms, their lines softened beneath her supple flesh; then they settled on the rigid outline of her nipples, clearly defined beneath their flimsy triangles of fabric. He was overwhelmed by the desire to push the material aside and thumb those dusky pink buttons before sucking each of them into his mouth.

"Your turn," she whispered. Her dark eyes fell from his face to his waistline, and she reached for the bottom of his own t-shirt. He let her fingers wander underneath, over the tense muscles of his stomach until they tickled the trail of hair leading down from his navel. Junior was positively ecstatic at this turn of events, urging Edward to pull his shirt off and allow her easier access. She took full advantage, placing both hands on his naked torso, running them slowly up his belly and over his chest until his breathing was as unsteady as hers. Why did she make him feel this way? Nervous and excited, like it was the first time they'd seen each other's bodies, the first time they'd touched.

He didn't know why; he didn't care. He gave in to the sensation and slid his hands around her, letting them glide up her slight frame until they found her beautiful face. She reached up and pulled off his sunglasses, needing to bare his gaze as well as his body. Their naked eyes connected and held until their lips took over. And then there was nothing but the soft wetness of their mouths conducting the heat between them, passing it back and forth until it became a fire of its own, fueled by the two hungry mouths feeding it.

They broke part at last with overwhelmed gasps. Edward felt exactly the same as he had on the swings a week ago when he'd lost himself in their kiss, barely registering where they were or who might be watching. He wasn't sure he liked how easily she made him lose control. Or maybe what troubled him was that she made him stop caring if he had any control to begin with.

Bella loved the feeling of him giving in, surrendering to the force that pulled them together. She had recognized its power that first night and given herself over to it. But she'd had to tell him to let go the first time he came inside her. If she had to coax him to be free with her again, she would.

She trailed her hands down his warm, musky skin to the closure of his shorts. She looked up at him as she undid the button and unzipped the fly.

"And what color are your swim trunks, Mister Cullen?" Her eyebrow raised quizzically. "What complements my virginal white?"

She took a peek down at the nylon fabric beneath his khaki shorts, then returned her gaze to his.

"Basic black," she announced. "Classic."

His half-smile was twisted. "Don't you mean 'villainous?'"

"You're not a villain."

"Are you sure about that? The bad guys always wear black."

"Johnny Cash wore black."

"Johnny Cash went to prison," he pointed out.

"He also loved one woman with everything he had until his dying breath. That's good enough for me."

Bella was almost as shocked at her words as Edward was. It was far too soon for that kind of truth. But she couldn't quite regret saying it, even though the meaning was a double-edged sword, considering his current line of work.

Edward wondered why he continued to be thrown by her blunt honesty. He should have come to expect it by now. And though it often left him speechless, it was one of his favorite things about her.

As the silence veered toward awkwardness, Bella looked for a way to steer the conversation back to the easy banter they'd shared before.

"Besides, I think you've forgotten one crucial thing," she said. She grabbed the waistband of his sagging shorts and tugged until they fell to the sand. She eyed him up and down and announced, "Black is sexy. And it's the perfect counterpoint to white. They balance each other out."

His smile was wry. "The darkness and the light."

"You can't have one without the other."

"I guess not," he conceded. "I'll let you light my way, then, Miss Swan."

She smiled at this, and so did he. His gaze drifted down her porcelain skin and its matching swim bra, then stopped at the incongruous blue of her shorts. He slid his hands over the waistband and deftly undid the button.

"Now let's see the rest of this white bikini of yours," he said as he slowly pulled at the zipper. He tried pushing the material down, but the jeans clung stubbornly to her hips. "You'd better do this yourself. I'll end up taking the bottom of your swimsuit off with the shorts, and then I won't be responsible for my actions."

Bella grinned up at his wicked smirk as she carefully peeled her shorts over her bikini. "Is that a promise or a threat?"

"Both," he replied as his eyes followed the path of her hands gliding over the curve of her thighs.

"Well, then, that gives me something to look forward to."

Edward shook his head at her flirtation. "That's a pretty bold statement coming from someone who's afraid to take her swimsuit off in public."

Bella looked up and down the beach. The closest person was many yards away, and would never be able to see them if they were to nestle into their rock-and-driftwood nook, surrounded by the tall grasses leading up to the bluff. She took Edward's hand and sat on the quilt, pulling him down next to her. They were mostly hidden from view, save for the opening to the beach with its tide lapping ever closer.

"Seems pretty private to me," she whispered, reaching up to stroke the side of his face. His jaw was rough with its perpetual stubble, and she wondered how many minutes it took after shaving for his hair follicles to spring to life.

His hand mimicked hers, finding her cheek quickly, but feeling only smooth silk beneath his fingers. Their faces drew closer, mouths demanding another taste. Edward looked down at her flushed cheeks and came to his senses once more.

"Stop trying to distract me from saving your lily-white complexion," he muttered into her parted lips as he watched her eyelashes close. "Suntan lotion, remember?"

Bella's eyes popped back open in annoyance. "Killjoy," she grumbled as she drew back with a sigh. She reached for her backpack and found the tube of sunscreen she'd packed inside, then waved it under his nose. "SPF 50. Are you happy?"

"Ecstatic. I can't have any fun with you later if you're all sunburned." He flashed her a positively wicked grin and grabbed the sun-block out of her hand. He scooted around and knelt behind her, lifting her ponytail out of the way. Then he squeezed out a dollop of suntan cream and smeared it directly between Bella's shoulder blades.

The cool wetness startled her, but she soon relaxed as Edward's fingers spread the liquid over her skin and rubbed gently until it disappeared. He repeated the process with maddening languor all the way down her back, using both hands. Junior twitched sporadically as Edward ran his fingertips along the edge of her bikini, pausing to trace the dimples above her cheeks. He leaned in, lips close to her ear. "I love a girl with dimples."

His words sent wildfire racing down her spine, his breath fanning the flames. She was trying to come up with a reply when he spoke again.

"Now lie down so I can do the backs of your legs."

She was face down on the quilt before she even realized she'd moved, her body eagerly complying with his quiet demands. She shivered the moment she felt his slippery fingers on the back of her right calf, and the gooseflesh spread with the motion of his hand working up the back of her thigh. He stopped only when he reached the edge of her bathing suit, his fingers pushing at the fabric over her buttock before dipping precariously close to the sweet spot between her thighs.

She stifled a moan, her back arched and moisture pooled in her groin. Images began flashing through her mind, an erotic collage of various positions and sensations as she envisioned him spreading her open and entering her. No man had ever done this to her before - made her fantasize and yearn for him so shamelessly. He repeated the slow stroking of her left leg, up and down and in between. She felt herself lengthen and arch even more into the pressure of his hand.

_Touch me, _she wanted to beg. _Slide your fingers in, deep. _She wondered if he could sense the desire seizing her, stretching her body into a tight rubber band beneath his touch. She couldn't know that the man hovering over her was a perfect mirror of her in that moment: the same rampant thoughts and wants flooding him; tempting him to throw all caution to the wind, remove her swimsuit and take her from behind.

He took a deep breath instead and knelt down, placing his mouth to her ear again.

"Do you want me to do the front?"

The huskiness of his voice was impossible to miss. She turned her head to look at his face close to hers and saw the same lust-filled gaze he'd given her on the couch two weeks ago. He had asked her then to give up her inhibitions for him. She responded now by silently rolling toward him until she was on her back, looking up at him with undisguised longing. The invitation in her eyes couldn't have been more clear.

His answer was even clearer. His eyes wandered freely over her body as she lay before him; his hands and thoughts soon followed. He slathered every inch of ivory skin with sunscreen, gratefully revisiting the hills and valleys he'd feared he would never travel again.

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" he asked at last, his fingers splayed over her belly, smoothing the creamy lotion into her skin. A cloud had drifted across the sun overhead, blocking its glare so that Bella's eyes could meet Edward's without squinting.

"The shower," she answered.

He nodded and moved his fingers gently up her sternum, then back and forth across the soft swells of her chest.

"I was so afraid then that I'd never get to touch you like this again."

She let out a noise of disbelief. "You couldn't have been as afraid as I was. And it's not like I have so many other options. Not that I'd want them."

It was his turn to snort softly. "You have more options than you know." He thought of the boys who'd walked her home last weekend. And the boys she probably didn't even realize had looked at her, thought of her, the way he was right now.

"They pale in comparison," she replied. She couldn't imagine Mike or Jake coming close to being this sensual, this compelling. She was nearly in a trance at the feel of Edward's fingers trailing along the nape of her neck, his liquid azure eyes leading the way. His hand closed softly around her neck, cupping her chin, holding her head immobile as he leaned down and stared into her eyes.

"Are you saying you want only me?"

Something between a laugh and a sob was strangled beneath his gentle grip. "Only you," she repeated in a thin whisper.

His thumb reached up and traced the contour of her lower lip. He suddenly cracked a wry smile. "You're crazy, you know that?"

She mustered a weak smile in response. "Yeah. I know."

"Lucky for me," he murmured, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers. "You deserve so much more." He kissed her again, and she struggled to return it; but his hand impeded her efforts. "And I deserve a hell of a lot less."

He frowned slightly and pulled back, releasing her long enough to squeeze more lotion onto his fingertips. Then he leaned over and gingerly applied tiny dollops to her cheeks, forehead, and the tip of her nose and chin. He gently stroked both hands over every inch of her face, swirling the cream into her flushed, satiny skin. He wondered if she knew how beautiful she was to him. Surely it was written all over his face as he studied hers.

Bella gazed up at him in wonder. She had never felt so cared for in her life. He looked at her almost reverently, as though she was something to be cherished. And when he was finished, he knelt and kissed her softly again, several times, his lips sweet and damp and delicious.

"There," he pronounced, propping his hands on either side of her head as he viewed his handiwork. "Now you won't get burned."

The metaphor resonated between them for a bittersweet moment. Edward's brows furrowed at the implication. But Bella couldn't help but smile at the big puffs of clouds that were now drifting across the sky behind his head.

"Figures that the clouds would roll in, now that you've got me covered," she said.

He glanced up at the sky, then back down at the reflection of it in her eyes. "You can still get burned on a cloudy day. Better safe than sorry."

"True. So we'd better get some lotion on this pink skin of yours," she said, reaching up to stroke his face. She propped herself up and reached for the tube of sunscreen lying on the quilt beside them. Edward sat back, cross-legged, and waited expectantly.

"Where to begin. . .?" she mused, looking him over. She'd dreamed of running her hands over his body every night for the past two weeks. She could hardly believe the dream was about to come true once more.

"I think it's time for connect the dots," she decided, crawling behind Edward and kneeling there. Instead of squeezing the lotion into her hand, she aimed the tube directly at his back and squirted a long trail down his spine.

"Shit!" he exclaimed in surprise.

Bella only laughed at his discomfort. "Don't be a wuss," she ordered. Then she dove into the cream with both hands and began spreading it in every direction, firmly massaging his muscles up and down, back and forth, as she went.

"Oh, God," he groaned, sinking into the pressure of her fingers. "Why didn't tell me you gave such good back rubs?"

"You didn't ask."

"I'll probably be begging for one every time I see you from now on." He broke off in a moan at the feel of her fingers kneading his shoulders.

"I could get into that," she teased. The truth was, she was loving every minute of the rubdown as much as he was. The masculine strength of his muscle and bone beneath her exploring hands only galvanized her desire for him. By the time she had finished stroking the rippling muscles of his arms, she could think of nothing but what they'd look like holding his torso aloft while he repeatedly thrust his cock inside her.

She took one last look at his back and made good on her promise to "connect the dots." She touched her index finger to the bottom-most beauty mark on Edward's back, near the waistband of his swim trunks; then slowly zigzagged up his torso, following the freckled path to his neck. She stopped at the tiny brown spot behind his right ear, then leaned in and pressed her lips to his skin. Her mouth continued the trek from there, moving softly across the nape of his neck to a matched set of beauty marks on the left. She planted her lips there and wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

His head leaned into hers; his hands crept up to encircle her wrists as she held him. He wanted to say something, but words evaded him. He closed his eyes and reveled in the bliss of that moment.

"You feel so good," she whispered in his ear, hugging him closer.

He wanted to argue with her, to tell her that the pleasure must certainly be all his as she melted against him. "You feel amazing," was all he could manage. "You're too good to me."

"I'm just getting started," she replied, her voice barreling down his spine like a shot of whiskey and settling, molten, at the base of his groin.

She let go and moved to crouch in front of him, pulling at his legs to uncross them. He leaned back on his hands and stretched out his legs so she could go to work, rubbing sunscreen into him one maddening limb at a time.

Her eyes drifted back and forth from the pale brown hair of his shins to the matching lashes that framed his eyes. As the sun peeked out from behind one cloud after the next, Edward's eyes faded from blue to green to gray, kaleidoscopes whose colorful focus never faltered from her. She watched them darken slightly under heavy lids when she perched between his calves and slowly slid her hands up the sinews of his thighs. His lips parted, his breath coming fast, as she neared his crotch. She decided she would show him no mercy - not after the intimate way he'd touched her moments ago.

She worked her hands under the legs of his swim trunks until they reached the crease of his thighs, then pressed her thumbs inward, dangerously close to the family jewels. Her eyes never left his, but she knew if she looked down, she would see the proof of his arousal. His face evidenced it well enough, nostrils flaring slightly, lips twitching, eyes burning. She wanted to grab his erection right through its nylon cover and pump until Edward groaned.

But no, she would have to cultivate patience now. The kind he'd exercised with her their first night together, teasing her to the brink of insanity with his studied sexual prowess. She withdrew her hands and picked up the bottle of suntan lotion again, shaking it before aiming at his chest. She jettisoned the cream onto him in an absurdly blatant sexual innuendo that made them both laugh. And then her hands were on him again, quickly transforming the humor into something serious by the time she was done.

She took her time rubbing him down, fingers lazily exploring, then insistently probing every ripple of muscle beneath his supple flesh. The rhythm of his shallow breaths, the tensing of his belly, the swelling of his cock against his swim trunks - all of these were irresistible aphrodisiacs to Bella. They were proof of her affect on him - proof of his desire for her. Proof that she wasn't just another notch in his belt. But the biggest testament lay in his eyes, in that relentless stare that never wavered. She was the only thing he saw. The only thing he wanted.

This was what she told herself. And this was what Edward wanted to tell her, if only he could utter the words.

But he was silent while she touched his face, caressing him as he had her, searching every plane and hollow, tracing and memorizing hallowed ground. He felt reverence in her fingertips, in her warm breath mingling with his. He saw it in her eyes, drinking him in. Insatiable, like his own.

She wanted to tell him how beautiful he was, but the words seemed silly and ineffectual. There were no words for this kind of need. And so she chose the wordless communication of a kiss, pressing her hungry lips to his.

His answer was immediate, overwhelming them both. He kissed her deeply, almost savagely, his tongue seeking hers in mutual communion. His arms were around her in an instant, pulling her against him, pulling her down to the quilt. She sighed in triumph as she fell atop him, fingers twisting in his hair while his hands gripped her back, pressing her closer. Their kiss grew frenzied, mouths devouring and moaning at the taste. Their bodies struggled to become one, limbs tangling, hands grabbing for possession.

They rolled to one side, facing each other, torsos undulating together in the telltale rhythm belying their need to join together. Bella pushed her thigh between his until the hardness of his erection dug into her hip. She ground herself against him, rubbing harder until she eked a groan from his lips.

"Fuck," he swore. "We can't do this here."

"Why not?" she demanded in a throaty whisper. Her lips scraped haphazardly along his prickly jaw, back toward the tender lobe of his ear. "No one's watching."

His fingers wound through her hair and massaged her scalp, oblivious to the words that came from his lips. "Bella, you were afraid of getting arrested just for public nudity. I guarantee you we will get arrested for public fornication."

"Fornication?" she repeated with a giggle. "Sounds so dirty when you say it. Say it again," she taunted, bringing her lips to his once more. "Fornicate me, Edward."

He half-laughed, half-growled in frustration, one hand traveling down to her hip, fingers gripping her ass and squeezing. She responded by tilting her pelvis into his once more. "Fornicate you?" he rasped. "Oh, I intend to. I promise I will fornicate the hell out of you, later. In private."

But his body wasn't listening. Neither was hers. They rocked in time once more, kissing and fondling and grasping at one another with more desperation than before. Their hands found their way under one another's swim suits, squeezing firm buttocks and teasing engorged sex. Edward released Bella's ass long enough to reach up to her swim top and pull the fabric aside until hard nipples were released to his waiting mouth. She wound her hands in his hair as he suckled her, back and forth, until both breasts were taut and wet. Her moan drew the attention of his mouth and he returned to kiss her again, tongue probing rhythmically, deeper, stroking, mimicking. God, how she wanted to feel that tongue between her legs.

She moaned again and reached down, sliding her hand between them, under the waistband of his trunks. His cock sprang into her waiting fingers, eager for her touch. She gripped him firmly and pumped in time with the motion of his tongue against hers until he groaned and gasped, breaking their kiss.

"Fuck," he swore again softly. "What you do to me. . ."

His words blazed through her, fuel to an already raging fire. "Touch me and feel what you do to me," she entreated.

Her eyes were fathomless in the shadow of the gathering clouds over head. Dark, impenetrable. He wanted nothing more than to penetrate, to break through, to be inside her once more. And she was practically begging him to do so. How lucky a bastard could he be?

He reached over and grabbed the edge of the quilt from behind her, drawing it over their bodies, sheltering them from the errant glances of anyone who might wander by. Then he slid his hand slowly over the swell of her half-exposed breasts, down the flat length of her naked belly, until he reached the edge of her bikini. He pushed the material down, probing, spreading her lips until he felt her wetness. She cried out softly as he curled his fingers into her, pushing the middle one into her damp opening, then deeper and deeper, all the way. She sighed and reached inside his swim trunks once more, sliding her hand along the length of his cock, gripping the base, teasing his balls.

Their eyes met and locked, so close they could count eyelashes. Their breath blended into a steamy cloud that hovered between them as they lay, face-to-face, hand-to-sex. Joined this way, they began an intimate pas de deux. Theirs was a dance of pleasure, hands working diligently together: hers gripping and stroking, his searching and plunging deep. Their lungs kept perfect time, breathing in sync with the movement of their busy hands.

Edward wanted to say something; to tell her how incredible she felt. How lucky he was to plunder those soft, wet ridges inside her; to stretch her tight walls with his fingers and reach so deep that he felt like he might touch her soul somehow. Her eyes reflected that search, that longing for more than just the friction of flesh against flesh. Her gaze told him the search had ended right here and now. He knew it with certainty as he reached even further, plumbing her depths with more urgency, utterly entranced by the sound and feel of her arousal against his fingers.

Her breaths became punctuated by soft cries as he increased the pace, his hand relentlessly working her wet pussy until her belly went rigid in preparation for its impending release. She responded by grasping his cock and pumping it more furiously, trying to keep up with the fingers buried inside her. Glassy eyes mirrored each other's lust, eyelids closing more frequently, brows furrowing and lips parting with passion and need.

How could such a thorough invasion feel so overwhelming, yet so utterly welcome at the same time? Bella marveled at this as Edward's hand ruthlessly possessed her, fucking her to the point of madness, of utter surrender, of ultimate ecstasy. She squeezed her lids shut as her eyes rolled back and her body arched like a cat in heat. She was coming, and the burn raging through her groin made her cry out for deliverance. Her muscles contracted around the source of their frenzy, gripping Edward's fingers in shockwaves of pleasure that had her sobbing and panting helplessly into his face so close to hers.

He stared in wonder at the intensity of her orgasm - the feel of her body trembling and bucking at his mercy. Her cries were matched by one of his own when her hand gripped his cock and squeezed mindlessly as she came. Oh, but it hurt so good, to buckle under her pressure as she just had under his.

She relaxed her grip on him as the waves of euphoria diminished and radiated dully through her body. Her eyes opened at last and settled in grateful awe upon his. Her breathing slowed, coming in longer and longer gusts that fanned gently across his face.

"What you do to me. . ." she quoted, her voice as spent as the rest of her. She felt his hand move slowly inside her, gentle and calming, until he finally pulled out. He closed his fingers around her hip and leaned in to kiss her. His lips were as soft and soothing as his fingers had just been. He was nothing less than perfection, driving her over the edge and then bringing her back with sweet assurance.

But what of his assurance? This was no time for slowing down. Not when his manhood begged for satisfaction in the sweaty palm of her hand. She moved to finish what she'd started, building once more from slow, sensual strokes to quick, hard pumps at the tip of his swollen shaft. His breathing soon caught up, labored and uneven, while she worked him with increasing speed. His eyes were dark and desperate as they stared into hers. He wanted release, and she would stop at nothing to give it to him.

She pushed the quilt down just enough to free him. Then she raised up, scooted down and knelt over him, taking the tip of his erection into her mouth. He groaned and fell back at the feel of her lips closing around him and pushing down the length of his cock until it met the back of her throat. He swore and winced in ecstasy at the sensation. How could she be this way - so ready, even eager, to swallow him whole? He marveled anew at the vigor with which she attacked him, using both hands and every part of her mouth to stroke and lick and suck him until it felt like every fluid in his body had been drawn into that single, throbbing rod of flesh.

"God. . . please," he begged hoarsely, his hands threading their way into her hair while her head bobbed up and down. The sun teased him just as mercilessly, peeking out from its cloud cover every few seconds to make him close his eyes against the blinding light. He was going to come, and he didn't even want to warn her. He wanted her to gorge herself on his cum, to drink down every drop and love it as if it were nectar of the gods. What a sick, arrogant bastard he was to crave that, he thought.

But Bella thought no such thing. She wanted the bitter taste every bit as much as he did. She wasn't sure why. All she knew was that she felt more powerful and utterly sexual in this moment than she had the first time she'd knelt before him and taken him in her mouth.

She turned her head to look at him; he raised his head to return the gaze. Then she slowly ran her tongue up the underside of his cock, grabbed the base in her hand, and swirled the head all around her mouth. She slapped the shaft against her tongue a few times before closing her lips around him again, pushing down, opening her throat and letting him in. She wanted him deep - as deep as his fingers had been inside her. The sound of his incredulous moan thrilled her down to the marrow. She began moving her lips up and down, pulling him in and letting him out, faster and faster, until his groin tensed beneath her. His breath caught, his hands tightened in her hair, and she braced herself for the explosion.

The sun broke free of its gray shroud at that moment, blinding Edward as his ecstatic eyes rolled skyward. He clamped his lids shut, but still felt the heat of the sun as he came. He groaned at the warmth radiating through him: on the surface of his skin, in the frantic beats of his heart, in the spasms of his groin; but most of all, in the wetness of her mouth cradling his cock, filling with hot liquid before she swallowed and lapped up more. Her lips and tongue pulled stream after stream of ejaculate from his pulsating dick, and moan after helpless moan from his throat. This was beyond ecstasy. Beyond sex. Beyond the realm of physical limitations he'd known before.

As he watched Bella cover his belly with soft kisses afterward, he felt a peace he'd never known. Her hands and lips roamed idly up his torso while his fingers played with locks of her hair. When she paused at the largest mole on his body, the one in the middle of his stomach, he cringed. He'd always considered the dark brown protrusion an eyesore, even jokingly referring to it on occasion as his third nipple. She ran a thoughtful finger over its oval contours while he waited for her to make her own crack about the imperfection.

Instead, she bowed her head and kissed it. He felt her tongue glide over the skin, tracing and tickling the aberration with the same reverence she'd shown the rest of him. She even smiled at the ugly thing, then at him.

And that was the moment Edward realized he was falling in love with Bella Swan.

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><p><strong>Sorry for such a long wait, everyone. I could list a multitude of reasons why it was extremely difficult for me to write last month, but I'll refrain. I'll just sum it up by saying that July was a very bad month - not just for me, but for a lot of us in this fandom.<strong>

**Thanks for all your support, everyone. The positive comments and encouragement mean the world to me. You're all pretty amazing, you know that?**


	28. Chapter 28

**I had planned to post a longer chapter again, but as I've been writing, I'm realizing that the next part merits a chapter of its own. I decided to post this now rather than make you all wait while I finish. The next chapter should be done sometime this coming weekend.**

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><p>"This one turned out really good."<p>

Bella held her phone up to Edward, who took a quick glance and smiled at the image before aiming his eyes back at the road before them.

"I'm glad we finally made it out to the lighthouse," he said. "The view is pretty amazing from there."

"Yeah, it is," Bella agreed, flipping through the photos on her phone's touch screen. "We were lucky to come across that jogger - it was nice of him to stop and take pictures of us together."

Edward nodded. "You'll have to email them to me."

Bella fiddled with her phone for a few minutes, forwarding the pictures one by one: the two of them close together, arms around each other, with the scenic lighthouse and impending sunset as their backdrop; the one of her holding up a giant shell to her ear to hear the telltale waves; the one of Edward posing atop a giant boulder like some explorer who'd conquered a new world.

"Done," she announced when the photos were sent.

"Thanks."

Bella stared at Edward as the sun descended behind him, casting his profile in stark and regal relief, like the bust on a coin. She wondered if she would always be this mesmerized by him. Surely that would fade as familiarity replaced novelty. But right now, she couldn't imagine it.

"So, why won't you tell me where you're taking me to dinner?" she asked as they headed north toward the city.

"I told you, it's a surprise." His grin was positively impish.

"Well, I hope it's no place too fancy, considering how I look." She began searching her backpack for a brush to tame her beach hair, blowing about her face once more in wild abandon.

"You look gorgeous," Edward answered without missing a beat. His eyes raked over her disheveled clothes, but she knew he was seeing her bikini, and what lay beneath, in his mind's eye.

Heat seeped into Bella's cheeks as she recalled their sexual tryst on the beach. She didn't know what had made her so bold, going down on him like that in public, even if they were mostly hidden from view. She only knew she didn't want to leave him unsatisfied, not after the dizzying heights to which he'd driven her once more with just a few well-placed fingers.

"I had fun today," she said, wondering if her blush would give her away her meaning. "Thanks for taking me to Discovery Park."

"The pleasure was all mine," he answered, his smirk implying that he knew exactly what she was talking about. "Trust me."

"I do trust you. But it was _our_ pleasure. We're in this together," she reminded him.

His expression turned more serious as he turned grateful eyes to hers. "You're pretty amazing, you know that? I'm a lucky guy."

She gave him that little Mona Lisa smile again. "Yeah, you are."

He chuckled and nodded as he steered them toward the twinkling lights of the city.

# # # # # # # # # #

Alice Cullen's ass had been buzzing all night.

Well, it was her left butt cheek, to be exact. That was the pants pocket which held her phone, set to vibrate. Her right back pocket was reserved for her order pad. She'd never quite mastered the art of memorizing her customers' menu selections, so she diligently wrote down their choices in a messy shorthand of her own design, complete with cues as to which dish went with which customer. Luckily Sophia and the sous chefs at Mama Giana's Ristorante were adept at deciphering her scribbles.

She stuffed her latest order sheet into the carousel above the warming station, then reached eagerly for her phone. The text was a simple one, but made her perma-grin widen.

_I'll bet you look cute in your uniform. Describe it to me again._

Grandma Em had always told her the shy ones were the ones you had to watch out for, and Jasper Whitlock was turning out to be no exception.

_Short-sleeved peasant blouse, cut just low enough to get me some extra tip money, _she typed back as quickly as her thumbs would allow. _Black slacks. Pretty basic._

_I'm definitely coming in some night to see it. I might turn out to be a very generous tipper._

Alice nearly jumped up and down at that response. _Well, I'm here until closing tonight. Otherwise you'll have to wait until Wednesday for my next shift. _She almost added, "How's that for being direct?"

She stared at the screen impatiently for a full minute, waiting for Jasper's reply. She was about to give up and stuff the phone back in her pocket when it buzzed once more in the palm of her hand.

_I'm on my way. _

Alice practically bounced back to the restaurant floor, giddy with excitement. She hadn't seen Jasper since Thursday, when she'd met him for lunch between classes at a burger joint near the quad. They had shared their experiences of their first week at U-Dub over a giant order of chili cheese fries. They'd lingered over each bite, talking more than eating, neither very anxious to get to their next class. By the time they were forced to leave, he'd finally, somewhat bashfully, asked her what she was doing this weekend. She had regretfully informed him she was working at the restaurant every night. He'd looked as disappointed as she felt. Two hours later, after their classes were through, she received her first text message from him, asking her how it went. Her ass had been vibrating with Jasper Whitlock's words ever since.

"Couple at Booth Five," said Deb, the hostess, as she passed Alice on the way to the kitchen.

"I'm on it," Alice chirped. She decided she'd better dial it down a notch so her next customers wouldn't think she'd been free-basing out in the alley on her break.

She grabbed two menus and wove her way around the tables to the far side of restaurant where the cozier booths were situated. Booth Five was one of the smaller, more secluded spots usually requested by couples who wanted a romantic evening together. She wondered if she could get Jasper seated back here, and then spend her break with him.

She was plotting the maneuver in her head as she whipped around the corner to the opening of the booth, brandishing her menus.

"Hi, I'm Alice and I'll be your server this eve-"

But her words were cut off by the blunt impact of surprise at who she found looking up at her. First she saw the enormous brown eyes of the cashier from the bookstore - the one Edward had a thing for - staring up at her in equal shock. Then her focus quickly jumped across the table to none other than Edward himself, looking a little sheepish, and a lot expectant.

Alice wasted scant time gawking at them both before exclaiming, "Get _out_! I can't believe you're here. Together. The two of you. On a _date_." She said the last word with the incredulity it deserved, but then realized she might be blowing things for her cousin. "I mean, not that there's anything wrong with that. At all. I think it's great, in fact."

Edward cringed slightly. "Everybody's got to eat, right?" he downplayed. "And Sophia makes the best Italian food in the city. I take it you remember Bella from the bookstore, right?"

"Yeah, of course!" she exclaimed with a smile at Bella, who gave her one in return. "I'm sorry I didn't call you, but this first week of school kind of put me on overload, you know?"

"Oh, I know. It's overwhelming at first. But you'll get into the routine soon enough," Bella said in assurance. "Call me anytime, though. Especially if you have any questions about classes or anything."

"Thanks, I will. We'll have to get together sometime, for sure." She shot Edward a look, trying to discern his feelings on the matter. The small but pleased grin on his face nearly floored her. She hadn't seen that expression since the last piano recital he'd done before going to Julliard. The appreciative crowd had given him a standing ovation, and though his face had been composed to express modest appreciation, his uncontainable grin had belied his struggle to keep from bursting at the seams with pride and happiness.

Alice looked at Bella once more, marveling at how she had accomplished such a feat. She had made her cousin happy again.

Bella was positively beaming herself, for that matter. "Yeah, we should hang out," she told Alice. "I'm sure we'll have lots to talk about." Her gaze drifted back to Edward's, and her eyebrow raised mischievously. It looked like Bella Swan was ready to hear more about Edward Masen - if she even knew that was his real last name. And Alice was more than happy to give her an earful.

Edward colored slightly, perhaps realizing the can of worms he might be opening by encouraging the two girls to get together. "Great," he said at last in resignation.

Alice chuckled and handed them their menus, then recited the evening specials for them. She already knew Edward would want the lasagna, but she figured she might entice his date into something more adventurous.

"The crab agnolotti sounds good. I think I'll have that," Bella decided after Alice was finished.

"Oh, it is! It's delicious," Alice enthused, scribbling the item on her pad. She was about to ask what they'd like to drink when her cousin stunned her for the second time that evening.

"That sounds good. I'll have the same," Edward announced. "And we'll have a bottle of the house pinot grigio to go with it."

Alice gaped at him dumbly like he'd given her the entire order in Italian.

"What, no lasagna?" she finally asked with a laugh. "Sophia will be crushed."

Edward only smiled. "Well, maybe it's time for me to change it up a little. Try something new."

He and Bella seemed to exchange a conspiratorial look, like they had a special secret between them. Alice stared at them for a long moment before adding a "2" in front of the agnolotti order on her ticket. She then retrieved their menus and left the duo alone in their bubble of obvious mutual attraction.

She spent the next twenty minutes subtly eavesdropping on them while she waited on other customers. The two had clammed up when she served their wine, and then their meals, so she had to resort to sneakier methods. She wasn't interested in the topics of conversation so much as Edward's behavior. Though Alice had never seen him working as an escort, thank God, she knew he had a coolly charming persona that he could put on at will, like the suits he donned before leaving the house. She'd seen that side of him whenever she'd been able to attend his music concerts - the veneer of the consummate professional hiding a bundle of nerves and latent insecurities within. He used to throw up sometimes before performances when he was younger. But onstage, you'd never know it. He always appeared calm and unflappable, the picture of confidence.

But she soon discerned that Edward did not use this mask with Bella. His smiles and laughter were genuine, as was his obvious affection. Every time Alice glanced at their table, she was struck by how at ease her cousin looked. How like himself he was. His old self, before the demands of everyday life had thrown him off track. She overheard him joke about dunking Bella in the Sound, claiming he never would have gone through with it - that her shrieks when he threw her over his shoulder and waded out knee-deep into the water were entertaining enough. She thought she heard Bella say something like, "I have better ways of entertaining you," which made Edward's eyebrow shoot skyward as he agreed that she certainly did.

_Wow. This is serious, _Alice realized. Not because of the apparent physical intimacy, but the emotional closeness. Edward was all in. She'd never seen him like this with anyone before. A glimmer of hope flooded her, like the sun breaking through the cracks in a cloudy sky. This girl really was the key to Edward making a change for the better. Alice was suddenly certain the tiny brunette sitting across from him would be able to succeed where she'd failed, and give him a reason to quit selling himself to others.

Alice hummed happily to herself as she rang up Edward and Bella's order. She was heading back to their table when a familiar tall, blond drink of water entered the restaurant. Happiness turned to elation at the sight of Jasper Whitlock's broad grin and quick wave when he saw her. She waved back and grabbed Deb, who was already on her way to greet him.

"Seat him at Booth Six," Alice whispered to the hostess.

Deb glanced at the handsome young man, then at her co-worker. "Sure thing," she said with a wink.

By the time Alice got to Booth Five, Edward and Bella looked anxious to leave. They rose from their seats immediately when she tried to give Edward his change. He shooed her hand away and told her to buy herself a hot fudge sundae - her favorite - later.

"Thanks," she told him, pocketing the change. "Speaking of which, are you sure you two don't want to order dessert? The tiramisu here is to die for."

Edward and Bella shared that same private-joke look as before, and Alice was still fascinated by the sight of it.

"No, I think we're finished here," he said, after Bella shook her head in refusal.

"The dinner was delicious, though, really," she assured Alice, finally tearing her eyes away from Edward's. "Please tell the chef how good it was."

"I will, now that you're leaving," Alice replied. She shot her cousin a look. "I didn't tell Sophia you were here with a date so she wouldn't do anything crazy, like spit in your food."

Bella frowned and gave them both a quizzical look. "I'll explain in the car," Edward told her.

As they all turned to leave, they nearly bumped into the hostess leading Jasper to his table. Alice intercepted, grabbing him by the arm to stop him.

"I'm glad you came," she told him, giving his bicep a squeeze. "Jasper, this is my cousin, Edward, and his date, Bella. This is Jasper Whitlock. I met him in the bookstore last week - he just transferred here from Texas Tech."

They all said hello, while the males shook hands and sized each other up. Both Edward and Jasper were similar in stature and build; they even had matching crooked grins. But while Jasper's was conciliatory, Edward's was wary. He was clearly protective of his baby cousin, but Jasper understood why. Alice had filled him in on a brief family history, enough for him to know Edward was a brother and caretaker to her, and the only real family she had.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Jasper told him in his most polite southern drawl. "Alice has been kind enough to show me the ropes around campus, since I'm new. She's a special girl."

Edward gave him a brief smile, his eyes narrowing slightly. "That she is," he agreed. His expression seemed to add, "And don't you forget it."

Alice was grateful for Deb's interruption as she showed Jasper to the booth behind them.

"Geez, Edward, you could have been a little nicer," Alice hissed, giving him a quick whack on the arm. "I like him. He's a good guy."

"I hope so," her cousin replied. "If not, he'll have to answer to me."

Alice rolled her eyes at his macho posturing. Bella seemed to find the whole thing amusing, though she gave her a sympathetic look as she followed Edward to the door.

"I'll call you soon," Alice hollered after her with a wave. She decided she was going to make good on her promise this time. Not only could Bella help her coax Edward to look for some alternatives to his current job, but she might be able to help soften his attitude toward Jasper.

She turned her attention to the broadly grinning Texan awaiting her in the next booth. After handing him a menu with an exaggerated sweep of her hand, she recited the day's specials once more. He ordered the linguini and clams with a Goose Island beer.

"And can I get you an appetizer of some kind?" she added, deliberately leaning over the table to flash him a little cleavage as she took his menu.

His hungry eyes lingered over her enticements for a moment before returning to her inquisitive gaze.

"You do know how to whet a man's appetite, Miss Cullen," he said with a lazy grin. "I'll take an order of whatever you recommend."

Her grin was not nearly so slow to arrive as his. "I'll have the chef whip up something special for you."

"Sounds great. Surprise me."

"I'll do my best."

_Forget the left butt cheek, _she thought. Alice's entire body was vibrating this time as she bounced back to the kitchen.

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><p><strong>As always, thank you all for your support and kind words. I have some very special readers. :)<strong>

**I'm getting a lot of "Guest" reviews asking me questions, but I have no way of answering anonymous reviews on this site. You'll need to leave a signed review from a valid FFNet account in order for me to respond. Thanks!**


	29. Chapter 29

**I'm about to play very fast and loose with canon regarding the Cullens' and Masens' family history. That's what AH/AU is for, right? ;)**

**Also, I had to go back and do a minor rewrite of a detail in Chapter 25, when Emmett was telling the tale of Edward's family. I chose a slightly different history for Edward's grandfather. That's what I get for posting as I write instead of finishing the story first. Thanks for bearing with me, everyone.**

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><p>"I like your cousin. I'm glad you took me to that restaurant so I could officially meet her."<p>

Bella smiled at Edward, his profile the picture of concentration in the glow of the dashboard light. Her comment brought a matching smile to his face, though he didn't take his eyes from the road winding through the residential hills of Magnolia.

"I had the feeling you two would hit it off. But I must be insane, encouraging the two of you to hang out together."

"Why is that?"

"Because Alice is an open book. I won't have any secrets left by the time she's done talking to you," he replied with a rueful laugh.

"So, you're keeping secrets from me?" Bella mused.

"No. You're already fully aware of my biggest skeleton. It isn't exactly in the closet."

"Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about."

_Nothing at all, _he thought. _Just getting in even deeper with you, that's all._

He hadn't consciously decided to bring her to the house after their date, but as he navigated the familiar streets winding toward his family home, he realized the destination had been inevitable. She had already found where he lived. Inviting her into the actual structure was a mere formality now.

He turned off of Magnolia Way onto a cul-de-sac that held a handful of vintage Craftsman and Tudor homes, all situated to afford stunning views of Puget Sound and Mount Rainier. He glanced over at Bella to get her reaction as he pulled into the drive of the Cullen home.

"This is where you live? It looks like a gingerbread house."

She stared through the windshield at the stately English Tudor looming before them at the end of the drive. Edward slowed the car as they neared the detached garage and waited for the electronic door to open. The clouds above had given the moon a break, letting it illuminate the grounds so Bella could glimpse the lush landscaping surrounding the brown and cream two-story home.

"This looks like something out of a fairytale," Bella commented as they pulled into the former carriage house, now a fully modernized two-car garage.

"That's what I thought, too, when I was a kid. I was always nagging my folks to go visit Grandpa and Grandma Cullen. Little did I know I'd end up living here."

Bella wanted to ask again what happened to Edward's parents - car accident, he'd said - but she was hesitant to bring up a sore subject. She hoped his invitation to visit his family home would prompt him to fill her in about his history without her having to pry.

She was still unlocking her seatbelt when Edward reached her car door, opening it for her like a proper gentleman. As they left the garage and followed the paved path to the side door, she was struck by the feeling she was entering a different world. A certain old-world charm clung to the house and its slightly overgrown foliage, replete with fragrant flowering shrubs and large shade trees. The stars were beginning to emerge overhead, sending showers of tiny spotlights through the sighing leaves. She reached for Edward's hand and he grasped hers immediately, leading her down the walk.

"It's so beautiful here. Peaceful," she said quietly.

She saw Edward's smile broaden in the dusk, and he squeezed her hand. "It is. That's one of the reasons I couldn't give it up."

He unlocked the heavy oak door to the entryway and held it open for Bella. She stepped inside and stood on the landing, looking around in curiosity. Straight ahead, a few steps descended to a basement door; to the left, a short flight of stairs led up to the kitchen. She dutifully wiped her feet on the doormat and wondered if she should hang her backpack up on one of the coat knobs fastened to the wall next to the door.

Seconds later, mind-reader Edward told her, "You can leave your backpack here if you want."

She laughed a little to herself as she took his suggestion. He opened his own backpack and removed the quilt, tossing it on a bench next to the basement door. "I'll take that down to the laundry room later," he said in explanation. Then he motioned for her to climb the stairs to the kitchen, and she obeyed. He followed close behind, flicking a light switch at the top to illuminate the room.

She gasped a little as she surveyed the brand-new granite center island with its modern bar stools, surrounded by rich cherry cabinets, steel appliances and matching light fixtures.

"This is nice," she said at last. "A little different than what I was expecting."

"How so?" Edward queried, a peculiar edge to his voice.

"Well, it looks so new. I thought it would be more . . . traditional."

His smile was wry. "Most of the house is traditional. But the kitchen is brand new." He paused and looked at Bella, his eyes hesitant, yet determined. "That's how I found out how bad my grandmother's Alzheimer's was. Right at the end of my college finals, I got a call from Alice telling me Em had left lunch burning on the stove. She came home from school and found the place filled with smoke. She could see the flames from the kitchen, and she ran frantically from room to room, looking for our grandmother. She found her asleep in the downstairs guest bedroom and thankfully got her out before the smoke got to them. Afterward, Emily had no memory of putting a pan of oil on the stove to cook some French fries. She'd just wandered off and forgot she was even making lunch, apparently. She said was tired so she went to take a nap, and that was all she could remember."

He grimaced slightly and looked around the room. "The kitchen was pretty much a loss, and the downstairs had smoke and water damage after it was all over. Thankfully the upstairs didn't need much more than a good airing out. It took a year, but we got everything cleaned up, repaired and remodeled. Good as new. Maybe better," he told her with a humorless laugh.

Bella didn't know what to say. She sensed Edward wasn't finished, so she waited, watching him as his eyes scanned the room again.

"Alice likes it. She's not into antiques too much. I like new things, don't get me wrong. I used to love staying in luxury hotels when I first started escorting. But they can feel sort of cold and sterile after awhile. Older things have character. Substance. They tell a story."

Bella nodded, though she'd never given the subject much thought before. Her father's house was a cozy, non-descript bungalow near the gloomy green depths of the Olympic Forest; while her mother's Florida home was a typical warm-weather dwelling of stucco and tile, similar to the one they'd shared in Phoenix together when she was young. Both her parents' homes contained a hodge-podge of garage sale finds and knock-down discount store furniture - nothing with a story to tell, that she knew of.

But when Edward motioned for her to follow him into the next room, she realized what he was talking about. Her mouth dropped as she looked around at the combination living/dining room, a large, open space anchored by impressive pieces of solid wood furniture atop gleaming hardwood floors. Her eyes roamed from a massive oak dining table with eight high-backed chairs to a huge mahogany breakfront full of beautiful antique dishes, then to an ornate coffee table with matching end tables, situated around elegant wing-backed chairs and a sofa. Even to Bella's untrained eyes, everything in the room obviously was crafted with great skill and attention to detail. Each piece of furniture was meticulously carved with gorgeous embellishments, and glowed with the luster of repeated polishing over the course of many decades.

But the most striking thing about the room was the back wall behind the sitting area. The long, rectangular area was conspicuously empty in comparison to the adornment of the rest of the room.

Edward strolled over to the dining room table and ran his hand along the rich, glossy wood. "My great-great grandfather and his son were carpenters," he explained, still looking at the handiwork under his fingertips. "They built this house together over eighty-five years ago, and most of the furniture in it. They had a booming business together until the Depression, when the housing market collapsed. They lost most everything, but managed to hang onto the house."

Edward turned to Bella, his expression hard to read. "My grandfather didn't follow in their footsteps. He was more interested in cars. He loved to take them apart and put them back together. He was a mechanic for a long time, and then went into parts sales, traveling around the area as the auto repair industry grew. He was a great guy - everybody loved him. That's what Em always told me, anyway. She loved him, of course - probably to a fault. Because the truth was, he liked liquor and gambling almost as much as he liked cars. The liquor finally did him in - he died of liver disease before I was ever born. And I found out years later that the gambling ate up whatever money he'd made, and then some. I never knew my grandmother had mortgaged the house long ago to pay off his debts."

Bella stood, rapt, in the middle of the room. The hush between Edward's words felt almost sacred, like the slightest noise on her part would break the spell. He was finally opening up to her, spilling the secrets of his past, and she would do nothing to stop his flow of words now that the dam had broken.

"My uncle Carlisle was determined not to go down the destructive path his father had. Maybe that's why he became a doctor - an internist. His younger sister - my mother - became a nurse. They both had the perfect temperament for medicine: compassionate, kind-hearted. Sometimes I think I used to fall and scrape my knees on purpose just so my mom would bandage me up," he said with a chuckle. "She'd always tell me some little story to divert me while she was cleaning the wound, so I'd never feel the sting. And it worked." He stopped for a moment and smiled, his eyes far away, focused on a memory. They finally returned to the present, and Bella's patient gaze, prompting him to continue.

"She met my dad in college - they were both pre-med. He ended up being a general practitioner. He had just as good a bedside manner, but he was always a little harder on me than she was. He didn't want me to grow up too soft or spoiled. He wanted to make sure I was self-sufficient. So he'd challenge me to figure out how to do things on my own, and then he'd help me when I really needed it. I can't really blame him, considering how he grew up."

Edward paused again, ruffling his hair with his fingers as he approached Bella. His eyes met hers in a strange sort of challenge that she didn't understand at first.

"My dad was orphaned at the age of seven," he said abruptly, his voice brittle. "He was born in Chicago. His mother got pregnant when she was a teenager, which was pretty scandalous in the 1950s. Her parents wanted her to give the baby up for adoption, but after my father was born, she couldn't go through with it. She ended up running away with him so she could keep him, but she had no money and no skills - she'd never finished high school. Dad always told me she supported them by being a waitress, but I have my doubts about that." He stopped and grimaced, shaking his head.

"Why?" Bella blurted, unable to stop herself. She almost clapped her hand over her mouth, she was so worried she'd ruined the moment. She didn't want him to clam up on her now.

His face was grim, but he continued. "Because of the way she died. Her body was found in a hotel room in a seedy part of the city. There were drugs in the room; drugs in her system. She had a few bruises on her body, but they were faint, inconclusive. Her death was determined to be an overdose, but I don't know . . . I've always had the feeling she was murdered. I don't know whether she was dealing drugs or whether she was a prostitute, or a combination of the two. But whatever she was doing got her killed at the age of twenty-four."

A chill ran down Bella's spine. She stared up into Edward's eyes, now oddly vacant and hard, like chips of black ice in the dim light from the chandelier over the dining room table. The similarity of twenty-four-year-old Edward's choices to those of his grandmother was not lost on Bella. Clearly it wasn't lost on him, either.

"My father never wanted me to know any of that, of course. And he died when I was only ten, so I had to pry the truth from Emily when I was older. But I'm glad I know. It explains a few things." His crooked grin was sardonic. Bella wanted to protest, but stopped herself when Edward spoke.

"Don't worry. I don't feel doomed to repeat her mistakes, if that's what you're thinking. But I have to appreciate the irony of it, all the same. One of life's little jokes."

But neither of them was laughing.

Edward shook his head, his brows furrowing in regret. "I'm sorry, Bella. I really didn't bring you here to dump all my family baggage on you." He reached a gentle hand to the side of her face. "I just wanted to show you where I live, maybe explain why I love this place - why I did what I did to keep it. I'm doing a hell of a job so far, huh?" he concluded with a rueful laugh.

"You're doing fine," she assured him, reaching for his free hand. He took it and slid his fingers between hers, clutching them tightly. "Don't apologize. I want to know more about you, where you came from. You have no idea how much I've been hoping you'd share that with me, even if it isn't all good. Nobody has perfect families or perfect lives, you know. I like hearing about your past, even the bad stuff. It doesn't have to ruin the present."

Edward's smile was genuine this time. He stroked her cheek gently with his thumb and wondered again what he'd done to deserve her.

"I already told you today that you're amazing, right?" he asked.

That brought her smile out to join his. "Yeah, but there's no statute of limitations on that."

"Good. Because you are." He leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers and closing his eyes for a moment. Bella kept hers open, loving the soft blur of his features so close to hers. He sighed a little, his breath warm on her skin; then he turned his face ever so slightly so that his lips could reach hers for a gentle kiss.

He wanted to say it then. He was amazed that the words were so close to the surface, so ready on the tip of his tongue.

_I love you._

No, that couldn't be true, could it? He'd known her for only sixteen days.

_You're counting the days. That's love, idiot._

He kissed her again, letting the knowledge sink in. Letting the weight of it settle in his bones and tissues, imbuing his lips with a special reverence, a curious calm, as they caressed hers.

He pulled back slightly so his eyes could focus on hers. He wondered if she saw the words there, printed across his corneas in naked relief. He tried to read hers, hoping it was more than sympathy - or worse yet, pity - that made them shine with unshed tears. He hoped instead that something as profound as what he was feeling was the culprit.

And then she spoke, and his hopes were dashed.

"So what happened to your father after that? After your grandmother died?"

He let his hands drop, and took a step back. Her look of disappointment was reassuring, at least.

"Orphanages. A couple of sets of foster parents," Edward answered. He felt his hand reaching for his head, fingers finding comfort in thick shanks of hair. "He studied hard and did well in school, so he had a few scholarships to help him get to college. He chose U-Dub's pre-med program; that's where he met my mom. They got married after they graduated, and she went to work as an RN while he finished med school. By the time he graduated, Carlisle had already been working for a few years in a medical clinic, and he managed to get my dad a position there. It was just in time, too, because my mom was pregnant with me."

The smile that stretched across Bella's face at those words encouraged Edward once more. "I had a pretty normal childhood. A happy one. I grew up in a little two-bedroom house in Beacon Hill. Mom worked part-time until I went to school, so she was home with me a lot. I was probably pretty spoiled, being the only kid in the family until Alice came along. I remember how excited Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Esme were - I guess they'd been trying for awhile and were beginning to give up hope. But Alice's arrival changed all that. I think she came out of the womb smiling. That's just her temperament. She always sees the good in people, always hopes for the best."

"What about you?" Bella asked. The wistful look in his eyes gave her the answer.

"I hope to be more like Alice when I grow up," he answered half-jokingly. He glanced around the room again, his eyes falling on the gaping hole in the corner. He frowned slightly.

"Why don't I show you the rest of the house?" he suggested, leading Bella past the foot of a beautifully carved staircase to the family room entry. He explained that a wall had been knocked out between the former parlor and study to create another large living space, this one more eclectically furnished with comfy furniture and a big-screen TV. The far end of the room still contained vestiges of the study, including an antique roll-top desk and floor-to-ceiling built-in bookshelves sporting dozens of volumes, old to new.

Bella digested it all in silence, save for the occasional appreciative comment. She followed Edward to the rear terrace overlooking the Sound, gleaming darkly under the night sky, and she marveled at the view. Even more, she marveled at what this place did for Edward. "Content" wasn't quite the right word to describe him, but there was something about the house that clearly resonated with him. She could see the deep connection he felt to it, and to his family's past. She supposed it stemmed from having so little family history on his father's side, and so few relatives still living. This place represented security to him, in a world where there was precious little of it.

She reached for his hand again as he guided her back to the family room, briefly showing her an offshoot to a small guest bedroom, where Emily had gone to rest after leaving the stove on that fateful day. Then he led her back to the staircase dividing the family and living rooms and asked her if she'd like to see the upstairs.

"Sure," she answered at once, her pulse quickening. She was anxious to see Edward's bedroom, and wondered if he would invite her to spend the night. But as she turned to follow him up the stairs, her eyes caught the yawning emptiness in the corner of the living room once more. She gasped when it struck her what had been there - what was missing from this house.

"What is it?" he asked her, stopping short at the bottom step. He caught where her gaze had fallen before she turned curious eyes to his.

"Where's the piano, Edward?"

He wasn't sure why the question stabbed at him the way it did, but he felt the breath leave his lungs at her words. He sagged against the railing and took a breath so he could answer.

"Remember when I said that the kitchen incident was what tipped us off to how bad my grandmother's dementia was getting?" He shook his head. "Well, for me, it was this." He nodded toward the empty spot. "I had just graduated from Juilliard when I came home to find the kitchen destroyed. But even that didn't hit me like this did - this hole in the living room."

He glanced at the empty floorboards in the corner again, not noticing Bella's jaw drop at his words. "She forgot I was a musician. Forgot the whole reason I was away at school. One day she just looked at the piano and couldn't figure out why we still had one. She'd never learned to play it, and my grandfather, who tinkered at it, had died long ago. So she sold it." He let out an incredulous laugh.

"Alice hadn't worked up the nerve to tell me yet - she could hardly believe it herself. But that's how I knew my grandmother was really gone, or at least halfway there. Because the woman who raised me from the age of ten and encouraged me to follow my dreams never would have done such a thing. She never would have forgotten.

"But she did. She did forget. Later, when she realized what she'd done, she cried and begged me to forgive her. And that's how it went - how it's gone - for the past two years. She has moments of clarity, but the confusion and memory loss take their place more and more every day. I used to bring her here every Thursday so she wouldn't forget this place. We'd look at all the old photo albums, and I'd remind her all the stories she told me about our ancestors, and how they built this house. And she'd remember, and repeat the stories, maybe even tell me some new ones, so I'd know she was still in there somewhere.

"But lately she's afraid to leave Tranquility Gardens. She gets disoriented and doesn't know where I'm taking her. Sometimes when she's here, she cries because she can't remember the things she knows she should. So I don't bring her here as much anymore. It's too hard on her."

"And on you," Bella added softly. She reached out and closed her hand around Edward's forearm, stroking the soft brown hairs up and down. "I'm so sorry you've had to go through this. It's so much to deal with. I don't know how you do it."

His smile was wry. "Some would argue that I don't deal with it very well. Alice, for one."

"She just wants more for you, that's all," Bella said. She slid her hand down to his, grasping it tightly. "You never told me you went to Juilliard. That's . . . pretty impressive, to say the least. You shouldn't throw that away. It's not too late, you know. I'm surprised you never replaced the piano, so you can keep playing. I know they're expensive, but . . ." She trailed off, waiting to hear his thoughts on the matter. She couldn't imagine ignoring that kind of education to become a glorified prostitute, no matter how dire the circumstances. But she wanted to understand, and waited for Edward's explanation.

Edward idly played with her hand, rubbing his thumb along her palm. "After I'd made the decision to be an escort, I was glad the piano wasn't here. It just would have been a reminder of what I'd given up. But I did start to miss it. I needed the release. Luckily, I have a friend with a piano so I can still practice. I'm rusty, but not as much as I might have been otherwise."

He paused, wondering if he could ever make Bella understand why he'd done the crazy thing he did to survive. He wasn't sure he understood it himself.

"When I ran into Emmett McCarty - the Enforcer, remember? - I was kind of in panic mode. I didn't know how I was going to afford to fix the kitchen, or even save the house from foreclosure by the bank. Long story short, my grandmother's finances were a mess. All her insurance policies had lapsed, she had two mortgages on the house, and she was in need of twenty-four-hour supervision. I didn't know how to handle any of it. When Emmett told me how much money he was making, it was an eye opener. It looked like the golden ticket to me at the time.

"I didn't think about his offer for very long. I knew if I did, I'd talk myself out of doing it. So I took the job and tried not to look back. I told myself it was a dream job, anyway - getting paid to date women. And if I got no-strings sex out of the deal, even better."

Edward stopped to gauge her reaction; to watch the look of discontent furrow her pretty features. He reached one hand up in an attempt to smooth them.

"I'm no saint, Bella. I didn't mind being an escort at first. I even enjoyed it sometimes. But by the time I met you, I didn't really feel much of anything anymore. The numbness was easier to take. Complacency made it easier for me to just keep doing what I was doing. And I won't lie, I liked the money. I liked being able to keep this place in the family, and being able to take care of Emily and Alice the way they deserved. I promised my father I would."

Bella shook her head sadly. "What about what you deserve?"

Edward's snort was derisive. "I lived a lot of years in ignorance, not knowing how my grandmother was struggling to make ends meet. She protected me from that and allowed me to selfishly pursue my dreams. So now it's time for me to put her first."

Bella could hear the conviction in his words; could see the stubborn determination in the set of his jaw. No wonder Alice had failed to get him to look for another way. He'd already found a solution, and in a twisted way, he thought he deserved to pay the price for it.

Edward sighed and gave her hand a squeeze. He began to ascend the stairs, gently pulling her along. Halfway up, he paused at a series of framed photos stair-stepping up the plaster wall beside them. At the bottom were typically stoic black-and-white portraits of his ancestors, starting with his great-great-grandparents. In the middle were his grandparents, captured in their youth, attractive and smart-looking in their 1940s styles. She wondered what Emily looked like now. She would be near eighty, Bella guessed.

As they neared the top of the stairs, the last two photographs greeting them were more recent family portraits, their vibrant colors mildly faded by the passage of the past decade or two.

"That's my Uncle Carlisle and Aunt Esme, with Alice - I think she was about three years old there. And that's me, when I was eight, with my parents - Edward, Senior and Elizabeth."

"You're a Junior?" Bella commented, studying the portraits. "Look how cute you were! And your mom and dad - so good-looking. Your aunt and uncle, too." She leaned in and looked more closely at Edward's parents. "You have your father's jaw and eyebrows. But the rest of your face is a dead-ringer for your mother's. You look just like her."

"So I've been told," he agreed with a smile.

"You said Carlisle was your mother's older brother, right? But that makes her maiden name Cullen." She thought back to Edward's good-luck charm, still tucked into the corner of her desk calendar. "The painting she did, with the four-leaf clover, was signed E. Masen. If that was her married name, then that makes you . . ." she trailed off as the puzzle pieces of Edward's identity came together.

"A Masen," he finished for her. "I've thought about legally changing my name to Cullen. Masen was my grandmother's last name. I don't even know the name of my grandfather, because she never revealed it to my dad. So we both grew up as Masens. My real name is Edward Masen."

His last sentence came out quiet and uncertain; a tentative introduction. Bella took him up on it.

"It's nice to meet you, Edward Masen," she replied just as softly. She squeezed his hand tightly, an intimate handshake, and he almost felt as if he and Bella were meeting for the first time.

She definitely felt like she had just met him today, in more ways than she could have anticipated. But there was still one piece missing before the puzzle of Edward Masen, Junior was complete.

"What happened to them?" she asked, her words whisper-light, yet seeming to echo in the staircase around them. She looked back at the happy faces of Edward and Elizabeth, Carlisle and Esme, and braced herself for the tale of their unhappy end.

Edward braced himself, too. He sat down on the top step and motioned for Bella to join him. "My father and my uncle decided to open their own practice together. They bought a small office on Pill Hill - that's what they call First Hill, because of all the medical centers there - and they had just remodeled it to open a family practice in November of '97. They decided to have an open house for the place, inviting all their patients and friends in the medical profession to come visit. It was an early Friday evening, but they thought it would be boring for Alice and me, so Emily offered to skip the open house and watch us instead. Our parents dropped us off here, then all left in Carlisle's SUV together."

He paused while Bella waited, her apprehension growing. She found herself gripping his hand a little too hard and tried to relax her fingers.

"They made it to the office just fine, but then a freak ice storm hit. Forecasters had missed it; they said we'd have a slight chance of snow. It started up right before the open house was over, so my folks and aunt and uncle closed early and decided to come home. But it wasn't soon enough. They were on Highway 5 headed north when they lost control on the ice and slid into a semi."

Bella was holding her breath now and gripping his hand even tighter, despite her efforts not to. He didn't seem to notice. His eyes were far away as he continued.

"The front of the car was crushed. Carlisle and Esme were already gone by the time the paramedics arrived. But my parents survived for a little while longer. Long enough for us to say our good-byes. Long enough for my father to tell me that I was the man of the house now, and I would need to be strong and take care of my grandmother and my cousin."

Bella finally let out a long, shaky breath. "Edward . . ." She stopped, afraid to say what she was thinking. She looked up into his face, a mask of stoicism; but he couldn't hide the pain that sharpened his eyes to flint. She turned her body toward his on the stairs, making him look at her before she spoke her mind.

"You were only ten years old. Who was strong for you?"

The pain flashed through his eyes again, softening them this time. Tears formed, but he didn't let them fall. "Em was. She was the strong one. The adult, the caretaker - the only one left. But now it's my turn."

Bella shook her head. She'd always known Edward was serious about his responsibilities, but she'd never known to what extent. She mustered her courage and hoped she could stand behind the words she was about to say.

"Well, if it helps any, you're not in this alone anymore."

Edward searched her eyes for the truth. Could she really be there for him, no matter what? No matter how long it took for him to find his way out of the mess he'd gotten himself into?

"I can't ask you to -"

But Bella cut him off. "You don't have to ask. I'm telling you I'm here for you. If you want me," she added uncertainly.

He stared at her in disbelief. "_If_ I want you?" he repeated hoarsely, making sure she understood how ludicrous her words were. He let go of her hand so he could grasp her face in both of his. "I can't remember the last time I wanted anything so much."

His mouth claimed hers then, but the prize was already won. She yielded immediately, giving in to his kiss, greedily taking and returning his passion in equal measure. Their kisses multiplied as they grasped at one another, clutching hair and clothes and warm skin, under the watchful two-dimensional eyes of Cullens and Masens past.

When at last they broke apart for air, Edward realized Bella's tour of his home was now ready to come to its logical conclusion.

"Would you like to see my bedroom, Miss Swan?"

She looked into his heavy-lidded gaze, and her slow grin matched his. "I would love to see your bedroom, Mister Masen."

A strange thrill shot through him at the sound of his real name spoken in Bella's sexy alto. He couldn't recall the last time a woman had uttered it. Maybe none had. Edward Cullen was the only incarnation who had dated any women for over two years now. For Edward Masen, this experience was brand new.

He stood and reached for her hand once more, helping her to her feet. After briefly pointing out the doorways of Alice's and Emily's bedrooms, he led her to his own. But instead of turning on the garish ceiling light, he reached for the nearest lamp, a small fixture atop his desk near the door. One turn of the switch cast a deep amber glow throughout the room, at once soothing and seductive.

"This is my room," he hesitantly announced, waiting for the only judgment that mattered.

Even in the ambient light, it was easy to see that Edward's room contained more beautiful pieces of antique furniture. The dresser, chest and desk were all constructed of matching lustrous dark wood. But by far the most impressive piece in the room was the huge four-poster bed that loomed before her.

She was still gaping at it when she felt Edward's arms circle her waist, pulling her close.

"Do you like it?" came the velvet voice in her ear seconds later. His breath on her neck sent the usual tremors down her spine, and she wondered if she would ever be immune. She hoped not.

"I love it." _I love you, _was what she really wanted to say. This beautiful house and its furnishings would mean nothing to her if they didn't mean so much to him. But as symbols of something solid and enduring, she could appreciate them almost as much as Edward did. She could even envy them a little because of his regard for them. She longed to make that bed jealous by stealing every ounce of his affection and holding it hostage. Right now, Bella wanted nothing more than for Edward to make love to her in the middle of that enormous antique until all four posts shook with fury at their passion.

His lips were on her neck now, soft and warm and wet. They mimicked the flesh between her thighs, already aroused and craving his kisses. Her eyes closed and her head fell back against the broad hardness of his chest. She sighed, remembering that first night with him . . . the unexpected intimacy of a stranger's touch; the freedom of surrender to its inexplicable power.

"Make me feel it again," she whispered. She wondered if he would know what she meant.

He knew all too well. He was right there with her, remembering the silky blue dress, feeling it now between his fingertips as he caressed the cotton of her t-shirt. He pulled at it, baring her shoulder, and recalled the sun gleaming off of her ivory skin. She was dusky peach now in the lamp light, and tasted just as sweet to his searching lips. Her head lolled against his; her hair smelled of the beach. He buried his face in the wind-whipped strands and inhaled deeply. The undeniable urge gripped him again - the need to lose himself in her, to burrow deep and live in her warmth.

He pulled the clothes from her body with an impatience he could no longer suppress. She had made him reckless that first night, and every time he'd seen her since, so it should have been no surprise that she had him on his knees the minute he got her alone in his bedroom.

And that's exactly where he found himself moments later: on his knees amidst a pile of discarded clothes, clutching Bella's beautiful ass cheeks in his greedy fingers, his face buried deep between them. He didn't remember how he'd gotten her to the edge of the bed. Yet there she stood, her hands grasping the nearest bedpost, hanging on for dear life while he devoured her sex from behind with a hunger he could not contain. This was the dessert he'd been fantasizing about all through dinner, watching her give him that sexy, knowing smile across the table; remembering those lips wrapped around him, drinking him down.

And now he took his fill of her juicy flesh, sweet and tangy and more delicious than any girl had a right to be. He nipped at her ripe cheeks; pulled at her soft lips with his own. He tongued the steamy entrances to her body, back and forth, up and down, in and out, until her gasps turned to sobs. Those were his favorite sounds: the cries of a pleasure that was too intense - the cries that begged him to stop, yet never stop. The sounds a woman made when teetering on the edge of no return. That was the ultimate destination, and he'd taken her there.

He paused, breathing heavily against her sex; and she sobbed again, her body quivering. He gazed up at her and found her utterly glorious: thighs parted, back arched, hair swaying gently across her back with each panting breath as she clutched the bedpost in both hands and waited for more. The truth struck him in that moment: she loved his impatience. Loved his hunger. Loved his need. She loved making him lose control, and loved him taking it back.

Maybe she even loved him.

He let his hands wander from the perfect globes of flesh they'd been cradling and caress the rest of her, up and down: the line of her long legs, the smoothness of her belly, the rigid peaks of her breasts. He was rewarded with her sighs and soft moans, so he continued on, tracing the length of her spine until he was back where he started. He massaged her sweet cheeks again, working his way between them until he found the slippery entrance. And now he would bring her to the brink once more.

Her whimpers started up again as he teased her with his fingers, probing gently, dipping in and out with a tantalizing rhythm that served to ramp up her frustration. She was soon pushing rhythmically against his hand, pulling his fingers in deeper.

"That's it," he murmured softly, reaching his free hand down to stroke his erection. He worked both hands together, gently fingering her in time with the motion of his fist pumping his cock. He was beginning to make the same desperate sounds she was, but he wanted her to be the first to crack. He needed her to want it, to want him, as much as he did her.

His fingers were moving rapidly against her pussy now, working her clit before plunging in deep, then starting over again. Her cries increased with his pace until she was shaking and clinging to the bedpost. He was near the breaking point himself, growling like an animal, ready to throw her on the bed and take her before she climaxed all over his hand instead of his desperate cock.

"Edward!" she finally gasped in a broken sob. "Please . . ."

He stilled his hand at once, two fingers still buried knuckle deep inside her.

"Please what?" he demanded hoarsely.

"Fuck me," she moaned, and he couldn't tell if it was a plea or a command. "Give me your cock. I want your cock. . ."

But he was already on his feet, sweeping her off hers to the waiting bed. Covers down; pillows found. He was on her, she was under him, and they were both delirious at the connection. As unhinged as he had just made her with his oral skills, it couldn't compare to the feel of every inch of his skin pressed against hers, their flesh and bone creating a symphony of movement together. She craved the intoxication of his breath mingling with hers, the thick silk of his hair between her fingers, the trails of wildfire his hands left wherever they roamed. But most of all, she loved his eyes on her. His eyes said the things his lips could not.

His eyes told her the truth.

She looked for it now, between ravenous kisses and lust-filled groping. And sure enough, she saw what she'd always seen: a certain reverence, maybe even awe. Like her presence was a gift he was surprised, even baffled, to have received. But she saw something else this time - something new.

Acceptance.

He was no longer debating whether or not he wanted this gift, or deserved it, or should refuse it. Instead he was embracing it, literally and figuratively. He held nothing back now. His body moved in sensual abandon with hers, its natural rhythms propelling him into her and all around her, limbs encasing, hands and lips caressing everywhere they could reach.

He spoke now in whispers washing over her, his words spilling out in an unconscious stream. _Do you have any idea how much I've thought about you . . . how much I've wanted you? . . . I can't fucking shake you . . . I don't want to . . . You're like a drug to me. . . so beautiful . . . You're in here, so deep . . . _

She was drowning in his words, swimming in their lyrical cadence. She undulated to his rhythms, her body dancing with his, rising to meet his slow thrusts. Taking him deep inside . . . so deep.

She gasped at the sudden realization of what was happening. Edward was fucking her, and it didn't hurt. She felt many things, but pain wasn't one of them. Pain was the furthest thing from her mind. She gazed up at the tenderness in his eyes and felt a different kind of ecstasy than she'd ever known before. It had nothing, and everything, to do with the physical act taking place between them. It was the joining of so much more than flesh. It thrilled her, completed her, scared her to death. When she'd signed that agreement, she never knew she'd signed up for this - this all-encompassing, life-altering connection to another human being.

But as she wrapped her limbs around him, she knew she was clinging to a force greater than anything she dreamed even existed. Groans escaped when he impaled her, but they were very different from the ones her virgin lips had emitted two weeks ago. Now they were sounds of her own acceptance, then transcendence. Each thrust of Edward's cock inside her seemed to drive her out of her body, onto some elevated plane she didn't recognize.

She heard desperate words fill the air, but from her own mouth this time. Begging him for more. Faster. Deeper. Harder. _God, you feel so good . . . so good . . . _

He was repeating the same grunting mantra as he drilled her, driving her to the head of the bed. She felt amazing to him. So responsive this time, so uninhibited. He wondered if she'd been practicing with those crazy things the doctor gave her. Surely not. But whatever the reason, she was free with him now in a way he'd never seen, urging him on, pulling him so deep that their skin smacked together and her body lurched beneath him with every thrust. He grabbed the headboard to steady himself, to keep from pounding her right into the ebony wood.

"Fuck," was all he could mutter as he lost himself in the wetness of her tight walls gripping him. And then, through the frenzy of lust, it hit him why this was so different - why she felt so incredible, so mind-blowing - and it wasn't just because he loved her.

"Oh no," he whispered at the realization. He slowed his pace, his eyes growing round with dread as he stared down at Bella's euphoric, innocent face.

"What?" she asked, her forehead creasing at the lull in his affection.

"Protection," he croaked. "I forgot - I'm not wearing - shit," he muttered. _"Shit."_

And suddenly Bella was cold and empty while Edward dug frantically in the top drawer of his bed stand. She watched relief flood his face when he found a colorful wrapper conformed around the tell-tale ring of a condom. She knew she should feel relieved, too - after all, it was for her protection - but she could only cringe at the sight of the thing.

"What is it?" he asked when he noticed her reaction. "You aren't worried this is going to chafe you again, are you? I probably have some lube in here, too," he said, diving for the bed stand again.

"No, it's not that," she said, sitting up and grabbing his arm to pull him back. "Well, maybe it is, a little. But mostly it's . . . I don't want to ruin what we just had going," she admitted, stroking his arm as she looked up into his confused face. "It was so perfect. You felt so good. I want to feel _you_, not a rubber glove inside me."

His half-grin was one of frustration. "You realize I want that too, don't you? But they make these things so thin now, it's really not like that," he argued, referring to the foil packet he still clutched in one hand. "It'll be good, I promise you. Let me find some lube and we can pick up right where we left off."

Her frown only deepened. "But we don't need it. It's way too late in my cycle for me to get pregnant. And I'm like clockwork, trust me," she insisted.

"Spoken like a thousand other girls who ended up with unwanted pregnancies," he said with a sigh. "Come on. Don't be careless."

"I'm not being careless," she retorted, trying not to sound like a petulant child. "I just want this to be different. I want _us_ to be different."

Edward reached gentle fingers up to touch her cheek. "We are different. I know you have no good reason to believe me, but it's true."

"I do believe you," she said. She pressed the side of her face into his hand, and his caress deepened. "You always use condoms, don't you?"

He winced at her reference to the other times - the other women. He did not want to bring them into this house, and certainly not into this bed.

"Always," he answered.

"Then be different with me."

"Bella," he said in exasperation. She closed her hand over his, then turned her face to kiss his palm.

"Please," she begged, her chocolate eyes his undoing.

"I can't," he answered hoarsely, watching as she moved her lips to his wrist and pressed their pink satin against his pulse.

"You can," she rebuked him quietly. She kissed her way up his arm, dismantling his armor. By the time her lips reached his ear, the battle was lost.

"Pull out before you come," she whispered, her breath tickling his skin and snaking possessively down his spine.

His groan was one of submission; her faint grin was victorious. They fell back to the sheets and into one another's arms. Edward was right - they quickly picked up where they'd left off, yearning bodies uniting in one effortless desire. But Bella was right, too. It was different with no barriers between them. Hungry flesh merged with raw and palpable urgency; fevered eyes met with naked honesty. There was nowhere to hide now. Nothing to do but trust one another.

Edward gripped the headboard in one hand again as he pumped into her with long, deliberate strokes, burying himself to the hilt before drawing out and thrusting deep again. Bella gasped at the intensity, but still tilted her hips upward to meet each thrust with her own. She grabbed his ass to make sure he gave her every inch of his cock, and cried out softly at the impact deep within. The slow burn began - she could feel it coming. She was coming. Coming to meet him at last - to match his desire, his need, his ecstasy with her own.

Edward felt it too, and tried to hold back. But she was so stunning at that moment . . . so gorgeous beneath him, red-lipped and flushed pink all over, panting and glistening with sweat . . . so wild and free, grabbing his ass and ramming him into her . . . dear God, that was hot. Too hot. She looked and felt so fucking good it almost brought tears to his eyes. Damn it, it was too much - he couldn't wait any longer. He was going to come. Now.

He wrenched his body free of her grasping fingers right before his dick erupted. He grabbed it in one hand and frantically stroked his shaft right at its tender tip, moaning loudly at the sensation as he shot milky threads of cum all over her belly.

Bella had no time to be shocked at his sudden exit from her body. The nerve endings within her were already firing, already starting the chain reaction that would push the gathering blood from her engorged flesh. Her muscles clenched together in the first wave of her orgasm right after Edward pulled out, then quaked with shockwaves in perfect time to his ejaculations. She watched in wonder as her pelvis lifted to meet each emission. Their moans of pleasure created a perfect duet in the amber-tinted air; her painted belly became an erotic work of art.

They both stared at it, and then into each other's eyes.

"I'm sorry," Edward apologized.

Bella gazed up at him and shook her head at how differently they saw things.

"That's too bad," she said softly. "I'm not sorry at all."

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><p><strong>This might be a good time to mention that I don't endorse or condone unsafe sex practices, or prostitution, for that matter. This story is purely fiction, not a morality play.<strong>

**Thanks for all the great reviews, adds and favorites - I'm always pleasantly surprised, and grateful, to receive them. And thanks to those who explained that this site is no longer prompting log-ins for reviews. That explains a lot! I wasn't aware of that, since I'm always logged in so I can update.**

**Special thanks to Cared for pre-reading part of this chapter, and for giving great advice. And I'm much obliged for all the Twitter re-tweets and pep talks - you all know who you are! You rock. That is all. :)**


	30. Chapter 30

**Sorry for the delay - Real Life has not been conducive to me spending much time in Fic Life lately, writing or answering reviews. I apologize for that! Hopefully the next chapter won't take so long.**

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><p>The first rays of dawn filtered in through the blinds of Edward's bedroom windows, painting the bed in bars of dusky gold. The comforter's classic brocade weave glinted in shades of deep burgundy, the color of a fine wine - his favorite. Bella's arms tightened around his warm body in the tangle of ivory sheets beneath their crimson cover. She breathed in the scent of his skin and the bedding he slept in, holding it in her lungs a moment before exhaling. How on earth could she go back to her empty matchstick dorm bed after this?<p>

She'd think about that tomorrow. She was Scarlet O'Hara now, living in the moment, enjoying the here and now. She memorized the way the beams of light played over Edward's features, augmenting the long, feathered shadows his eyelashes cast over his cheeks. She wished she could capture the image on her camera phone, but it was hanging in her backpack near the kitchen door. Better yet, she imagined how beautiful a pencil or charcoal rendering of him would be, though she was sure her own meager talents could never do him justice.

So she drank in the softly snoring work of art next to her on the pillow, absorbing each nuance, wondering if she would ever be saturated, ever have enough.

She already knew the answer. She could never get enough of him. She knew it the minute he pulled out of her last night and spilled his seed all over her, apologizing for the mess afterward, not understanding how much she loved it. How could he still think she wanted only his perfection? How was it that he didn't realize she loved every self-imagined flaw about him?

But no, he insisted they shower afterward. Clean up the mess; wash off every drop of sperm and sweat and saliva, every grain of sand and sea salt that evidenced the gritty beauty of their day together. They brushed away their garlic breath and gave each other fresh kisses before falling into a soap-scented sleep. She wondered what happened to the guy who had insisted on kissing her despite their morning breath just two short weeks ago. She pressed her face into his shoulder until she could glean his scent through that of the dissipating shower gel, and there she found her happiness.

She luxuriated in it now. The drowsy remnants of slumber still held her captive in Edward's arms. She could find no will to move, unless it was to draw closer to him. They had both awakened often during the night, smiling at the sight of one another, relishing the feel of each other's warmth before falling into blissful unconsciousness again.

Bella thought she might drift off again were it not for the enticing picture he painted in the morning light. She didn't want to close her eyes again and miss a moment of his breathing. She could feel each puff of air lightly on her face, each rise of his chest against her arm. This was heaven, pure and simple. She could think of nothing better than this, except for the way he made love to her. There were no words to describe the place he took her - the person he made her. She was different with him in the way she'd always dreamed of: confident, open, free.

She thought maybe she did the same for him. She hoped so, anyway.

He had not moved for ten minutes, at least. He seemed to be in a deep sleep despite the sun's increasingly bold attempts at waking him. Bella finally tore her eyes from his face and began to look around the room, its details slowly making themselves known in the muted dawn. Aside from the sturdy, well-oiled furniture, there were paintings adorning the walls and photographs atop the dresser. The artwork resembled the tiny "bookmark" that Edward had yet to reclaim from her dorm room, and she assumed the water-color renderings of the Sound and surrounding landscapes were the work of his late mother. She could discern Elizabeth's likeness in the photographs, too, along with the two Edwards in her life. Bella was itching to go take a closer look at those snippets of Edward's past.

Gingerly, ever-so-carefully, she inched away from him under the covers. He grumbled a little and reached out in his sleep, grabbing the comforter and pulling it closer when she eluded his grasp. Her heart swelled at the gesture. She was amazed at the ache she felt as she slid out of the warm spot into the cool sheets at the edge of the bed. The hardwood floor was cold under her bare feet when they touched down.

She looked around for something to wear, but her clothes were still strewn with Edward's all over the bedroom floor. She noticed his t-shirt had landed on the only chair in the room, so she grabbed it, shaking it out slightly before pulling it over her head. Yesterday's beachy, musky scent still clung to it, and she wrapped her arms around her middle, pulling the soft cotton close to her body.

She padded quietly around the room, studying the landscape paintings first. Sure enough, each sported the familiar "E. Masen" signature in the lower right-hand corner. His mother had quite a talent, capturing her subject matter in dreamy washes of color with a few spare details added later in dry brush for definition. Bella had always had trouble using water color paints, and she admired the technique she saw before her.

She ended her jaunt at the dresser, gazing at Edward's photos one by one. There were several of him as a child with his parents. She grinned in recognition at the tow-headed boy with bright blue eyes and a mischievous smirk reminiscent of the one he often gave her now.

And then there were the adolescent years, the photos portraying a gangly teen with over-large features and haunted eyes - the eyes of someone who had lost too much, too soon. But more recent pictures showed a younger version of the man she knew now: serious but confident, seated purposefully at an enormous upright piano in the now-empty corner of the living room downstairs.

Alice was in some of the pictures, ebullient and spiky-haired, the free-wheeling counterpoint to her cousin's natural containment. Edward's grin was broader when he stood next to her, as if the gravity of her own huge smile had pulled his wider.

But the photos that fascinated Bella the most were the ones of the two of them with their grandmother.

Bella wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't the tiny woman anchoring dainty Alice and lanky Edward in every picture. Emily Cullen couldn't have been much more than five feet tall, yet she still appeared to be the pillar of strength between her giddy granddaughter and melancholic grandson. Stalwart and robust, she was a compact, golden-haired powerhouse with a sturdy frame and no-nonsense expression. She had the sympathetic, yet slightly steely look of someone who had weathered many a storm. There was fierce pride in her face as she clutched her grandchildren to her. Emily was clearly the glue that held the remnants of her family together in a tight, protective bond.

Bella suddenly had a much better grasp of how overwhelming it must have been when that glue began to dissolve.

She turned to look at Edward once more; to study his handsome features furrowed in sleep. She let out a gasp of surprise when she found him propped up on a pillow against the headboard, watching her.

"You're awake," she blurted, her cheeks coloring like she'd been caught doing something she shouldn't.

"The bed was cold," he said, his honey tone masking the mild accusation.

"I'm sorry," she said, not sure why she was apologizing. Her feet began carrying her back to his side without any conscious decision on her part. She crawled over the covers and into his waiting arms.

"I hope you don't mind my snooping," she said, still feeling a bit like a naughty child.

"Why would I mind?" he said, putting her worries to rest. He laid a gentle hand on her hair. "I brought you here because I wanted to show you everything."

She gave him a relieved smile. "I like looking at pictures of you and your family. Your grandmother looks like an amazing woman. You can see the strength and determination in her face. And the love. It's easy to see how much she loves you."

Bella looked into Edward's sleepy gaze and wondered if he could see the same thing in her own eyes.

He smiled, and his eyes crinkled at her in that way that made her think he saw everything.

"The feeling's mutual," he told her, and she knew she was right.

He combed his fingers languidly through her hair, then frowned a little. "Did you sleep okay?"

"I slept great," she said, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "I think you've ruined me for my dorm bed forever."

"I like having you in my bed." He wanted to add a promise to make sure she was in it more often, but he couldn't. Not yet. Not until he figured out a way to make it come true.

"Did you have fun yesterday?" he continued, not sure why he was asking, or why he felt uncertain about the answer. He hadn't felt the need for anyone's approval this much in a long time.

"Are you kidding? Yesterday was amazing. So was last night." She felt her face grow warm at the memories.

His answering smile was just as warm and full of intimate secrets. "It was, wasn't it? Perfect," he whispered. His arm tightened around her, hand squeezing her shoulder. "But we can't do that again."

Her eyes widened in panic. "Do what?" She was terrified he would tell her she'd just experienced their first, and last, date off the Renaissance Escorts clock.

"Have unprotected sex," he clarified. "There are too many risks." He didn't want to name them all. Surely he didn't have to.

Bella sighed in relief. "I know. I get it. But I promise you, I'm not going to get pregnant. I'll text you when my period starts tomorrow, if you want."

"It's not just that," he reminded her. "I get tested all the time, and I'm always careful - except when I'm with you. You make me careless. You make me forget everything. Everything except this. Here. Now."

His eyes were wistful, fingers longing as they combed through the silky hair above her ear. She reached up and closed her hand around his.

"That's because now is all we have. I never know when the next time will be."

He nodded wearily, wanting to give her more. And then, his expression changed as inspiration struck.

"As I recall, you have a very big birthday coming up," he remembered. "Do you have any special plans for that day?"

Bella's face brightened as he hoped it would. "No. I told Charlie I'd go home to visit next weekend, but my birthday is the Tuesday after. Not a big party night."

"Would you like to spend it with me?"

She rolled her eyes at his formality. "I'd love to spend it with you. Why would you even ask?"

"Because you might have plans with your friends, for all I know. Or that ex-boyfriend of yours - Mike? Is that his name? He looked like he'd be happy to give you a good birthday spanking."

Bella's mouth dropped open in shock. "Oh, please. Don't even go there. Mike and I are just friends. Trust me, there will be no spankings of any kind going on with him." She shuddered slightly at the thought.

Edward caught her grimace and zeroed in for the kill. "So, do you have a problem with spankings in general, or just from Mike? Because you're not going to get off that easy if you spend your birthday with me."

Bella's eyes narrowed. "Don't you dare even think about it."

Edward's grin turned mischievous. "Too late. I've already thought about it. Fantasized about it, many times. I am a full-service birthday specialist. Cake, candles, bad singing, toasts to the birthday girl, bare-ass spankings, and a pinch to grow an inch. If you say 'yes' to my date offer, then you'd better prepare yourself."

They stared each other down for a moment. Bella was amazed at how shamefully hot she found the idea of Edward turning her over his knee. Edward was not at all amazed that Junior was twitching at the prospect.

Her right eyebrow arched infinitesimally before she gave him her answer.

"Yes."

His grin was positively wicked now, and Bella's heart began to race in anticipation. Sure enough, seconds later he'd managed to wrestle her face down over his lap, with the suggestion, "How about a sneak preview?"

She squealed and struggled against him to no avail, which only made her t-shirt ride up and expose her backside to his waiting hand. She felt his fingers close over her left cheek, giving it a squeeze.

"What a nice, round target you have," he commented, smoothing one hand over the curve of her ass while the other pressed between her shoulder blades, pinning her torso to the bed covers over his thighs. She craned her neck to glare up at him, pushing half-heartedly against the bed with her arms.

"Resistance is futile," he continued with a maddening smirk, stroking her bare buttocks in soothing circles. "Besides, I have the feeling you're going to like it."

She had no time for rebuttal. She heard the smack of his palm a split-second before the sting shot through her skin and traveled deep into her flesh. She manage to emit a single yelp of protest before she felt the broad side of his hand once more, reverberating straight to her genitals in astonishing tingles of desire.

"Stop!" she shrieked, not knowing why, because she didn't necessarily want him to do any such thing. He ignored her anyway, chuckling maniacally as he gave her a series of lightning-quick slaps all over her cheeks until they smarted and burned and her pussy had grown inexplicably wet.

When Edward saw the pink flush of blood rising to the surface of her skin, he relented, smoothing his palm over her ass and bending down to nuzzle his face in her neck.

"We're going to have so much fun on your birthday, Bella," he whispered. "I can promise you that."

"You are a twisted freak," she mumbled through the tangle of her own hair as she turned her face to his.

"You love it," he argued confidently, caressing her backside until he felt her arch into his hand. He slid his fingers slowly down the crevice between her buttocks, briefly exploring her back entrance before finding the slick opening beneath it. Gentle probing revealed the slippery evidence of her arousal, granting him easy entry. She moaned softly as his fingers delved deeper, seeking that special spot inside her that would make her come.

"I was right about you," he whispered, half to himself, as he began to move his first two fingers in a languorous rhythm, pushing deeper inside. She whimpered softly, and he used his other hand to push the t-shirt up her back, exposing her ivory flesh so he could massage her back in time with the delving of his fingers.

"Right about what?" she gasped, grasping the comforter in her fingers and arching her back once more to meet his touch.

"That you love this. You were made for this." He worked his fingers deeper before pulling out slightly and then plumbing her depths again. Her pussy made delicious smacking sounds that turned him on more than she could ever know, and he felt his dick harden beneath the covers, wanting in on the action.

"Made for what - finger fucking?" she retorted between heavy breaths.

He let out a soft chuckle. "Yes," he agreed. "Finger fucking. All kinds of fucking. Sex," he asserted, letting his free hand glide down her back to join the other. He slid one underneath her to stroke her clitoris, while the other plunged rhythmically inside her. "You love sex. That's why you came to me in the first place."

She scowled into the comforter, wanting to protest, but too caught up in the incredible sensations racking her abdomen. "I love sex with _you_," she managed to say, turning her head sideways to get a peek at his beautiful body next to her. She reached back and pulled at the covers until his erection sprang free, his dick hard and pointing at her in proof of his own desires. She quickly grabbed it in her fist, yanking a bit roughly until he groaned. Then she worked her hand in time with his, stroking his cock from base to tip to match his fingers sliding in and out of her.

"And I love it with you," he rasped, feeling himself lose control, sensing that the reckless beast within was about to take over once more. He began working her deep inside with short, rapid-fire strokes against the spongy flesh of her g-spot, and she cried out as her body tensed around him. She let go of his dick and clutched the comforter beneath her in both hands, her knuckles white as she panted and pushed back into his ruthless hand.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed, moaning helplessly. How could something so rough and animalistic feel so good? His hand worked like a velvet jack-hammer inside her, a human vibrator sending her neurons firing in every direction until she was filled with electricity . . . snapping, crackling, building into an explosion of fireworks that burst all around him, her body quaking, muscles squeezing his hand with vice-like pressure in wave after wave of mind-blowing ecstasy.

He slowed the motion of his hand to a standstill as she came, amazed once more at the intensity of her orgasm. Her release was still the sexiest thing he'd ever seen. He wasn't sure what turned him on more - the power he had over her pleasure, or perversely, the utter lack of control her surrender inevitably made him feel. All he knew was that her euphoria was his own. He smoothed her hair from her face as her breathing slowed and she turned to look up at him. Their eyes shared that strange knowing yet again - that language that transcended words. The realization of what they did to each other - what they were together - and how it changed forever who they were when they were apart.

Her gaze finally fell from his stunned face to the evidence of his unsatisfied desire, bobbing and twitching on his belly as he slumped back against the headboard. Still drunk on endorphins, Bella slowly turned to face him. She stretched out on her side across his body, easing her hips onto the mattress next to him, reluctantly letting his magic hand exit her body. She raised her eyes to his as she leaned in and pressed her lips to the base of his erection. She watched his lungs fill with air at the sensation, then opened her mouth, letting her tongue tickle his rigid flesh. She languidly ran it up the ridge on the underside of his cock until she reached the sensitive tip, then swirled it slowly around the head as she grasped his shaft in one hand. His eyes rolled back slightly before closing, and a throaty moan escaped him. Bella's mouth smiled in satisfaction before opening wide and taking in every inch of him she could manage.

She felt his hands in her hair immediately, reaching for the nape of her neck, his grip as gentle as the moans that vibrated his Adam's apple. He did not guide her, but simply let his fingers rest there, lost in her tangled mane as she took the reins. He let her be the master of his pleasure once more, moving at her own pace, slowly stroking and exploring with her hands and mouth, sucking and licking and swallowing until he felt his hips begin to move in time with her, his fingers once again pressing into her scalp until she choked, her saliva running thick over his cock. He let go immediately, guilty over the intense pleasure that had given him.

But Bella only took a breath and did it once more, calming her gag reflex and swallowing him deep. His noises of appreciation spurred her to do it again, and again, until she gagged and was forced to release him.

She sat up a little and looked at him, firmly grasping his saliva-drenched cock and stroking it up and down while he shook his head in amazement.

"Baby, you don't have to do that," he told her.

"But you like it," she pointed out. "If you like it, I like it."

"And if you don't, then I don't," he told her, placing his hands gently on either side of her face. "This is a two-way street. Remember that."

She nodded, still working his wet erection in her hand. "I know something I'd like."

"Name it."

His face was open, ready. Waiting to fulfill her fantasy.

She raised herself up and swung one knee over his hips, straddling him. She rubbed her still-throbbing pussy against him, up and down, wetting them both, until his swollen head was lodged at her opening. And then, after she slowly lowered herself onto him, gasping as he stretched and filled her, she leaned in close and said one thing:

"I want you to come inside me."

Edward's groan was equal parts pleasure and exasperation, his eyes plaintive. "Anything but that."

"No. Exactly that," she insisted, pushing down with a small whimper until he was buried balls-deep inside her. "I can't get pregnant right now. I'm clean, you're clean - I trust you."

"Don't," he shot back, his hands closing around her hips, ready to pull her off of him.

"I want to feel you come inside me like that first night, only better," she continued, gripping his shoulders firmly and moving her groin slowly against his, letting him out a little before bearing down again. "I want you to explode inside me. I want to feel your cum, hot and wet, filling me up. I want every drop, deep inside."

"Holy fuck," he mumbled before her lips closed over his in a hungry kiss. He knew he should push her away, but how could he when it was the last thing he wanted to do? Instead he felt himself kissing her back, caressing her tongue with his own. His hands squeezed her hips, fingers splaying over her cheeks; his hips rose to meet hers, cock sinking gratefully into juicy flesh.

Bella murmured triumphantly into his mouth and pressed against him, hands traveling up his neck into his thick hair before releasing him. She grabbed at the t-shirt still covering her body and pulled it over her head, rising to her knees so her naked chest would assault Edward's eyes the minute she was free. He reacted exactly as she knew he would, groaning and taking her breasts one by one in his mouth, his hands roaming up and down her body, no longer knowing where to rest.

Shivering from his touch, she lowered herself on him again and began building a rhythm, panting in time to the sensations of his cock burrowing deep within her. Each thrust still hurt and yet somehow didn't, each welcome impalement forcing a whimper of pained pleasure from her throat.

Edward watched her dance atop him in a helpless ecstasy that bordered on agony. He knew he shouldn't do this, but he craved it so much that stopping would be even worse. Unthinkable. Besides, the damage had already been done last night, his fevered mind reasoned. Might as well ride this out to its inexorable conclusion.

And ride they did, bodies coming together with escalating fervor, writhing and bucking until Bella grasped the headboard on either side of Edward's shoulders to brace herself. His hands closed over her ass, holding her steady as their hips repeatedly rammed together. But the real intimacy was to be found further north, where shiny faces hovered mere inches apart, blurry-eyed and cherry-lipped, panting and moaning in unison, kissing and parting before kissing again.

Bella's cries were soft and regular, keeping time with the increasing rhythm of Edward's thrusts. But when they began to escalate in pitch and frequency, he knew with thrilling certainty that this was the moment he'd been waiting for. She was going to come. With his dick inside her. Fucking her. The elusive event he'd fantasized about since the night they met was at hand.

He let go of her hips so he could grasp her face instead, making her look at him. She knew what he was doing - knew how much this meant to him. To both of them. She locked her gaze with his and let go of the headboard, sinking her fingers into Edward's hair instead as his cock drilled deep and sparked that delicious, slow burn within her.

He felt the pressure building inside him, the force gathering deep at the base of his groin. He tried to slow his rhythm, refusing to ruin this, to give in to the urge to come before she did. But her hips were relentless, fast and furious as she rode him, her body carrying her to the edge of that cliff, ready to take the plunge. He gritted his teeth and furrowed his brow, trying to concentrate on anything that would keep him from following her there. But it was no use. He was too far gone. He was already over the edge, free falling, hoping that he could pull her with him.

He bucked with a helpless groan of ecstasy at the first emission that rocketed from his dick, straight up into the encircling warmth of her womb. But when the second spurt erupted, he felt something else - the crushing grip of her muscles tightening around him in her own release.

His eyes popped open wide with grateful wonder as she shuddered around him, her insides clamping down mercilessly, her orgasm reverberating in glorious sync with his own.

She wasn't nearly as surprised as he was. The minute she felt him let go - felt that molten liquid shoot deep inside, bathing her core in warmth - she knew she had arrived. This was it. This was the ecstasy she'd searched for all along; the connection that had eluded her until Edward. The thing she'd wanted that she could never name, never even imagine, when she had sought out a stranger to somehow complete her.

It made no sense to her, even now. She knew her self-esteem should not hinge upon her desirability to someone else, nor her ability to quench his desires in return. But here, in Edward Masen's room, in Edward Masen's bed, she had found something she never knew was missing, something she could never find alone. And it wasn't between his legs - it was in his eyes.

And he recognized that truth in hers.

They found that nameless truth in one another, rutting atop twisted bed covers, bathed in slats of golden sunlight spilling through the window blinds. Bella Swan and Edward Masen had finally come together. In unison. In a whirlwind of delirium and ecstasy and blind trust that both had wished for, but never fully expected to happen.

But it did. It did happen. They had finally reached the pinnacle they had both yearned for, at exactly the same time, with matching intensity. Matching awe. Matching disbelief, and acceptance, and relief.

As they clutched each other in panting, pulsating oneness, they both wondered the same thing.

_Where do we go from here?_

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><p><strong>I might have gotten a little carried away in Lemon Land with this chapter. But if I can't get carried away in fanfic, where can I? ;)<strong>

**Disclaimer, in case you missed the one in the last chapter: I realize these characters are being utterly asinine in regards to their sexual practices, which is not something I condone in Real Life. That's why this is fan fiction, not a PSA for safe sex. **

**As always, thanks so much for all the great support and positive reviews - I really do appreciate them. The negative ones, not so much. Why anyone would waste precious time continuing to read a story s/he dislikes for the sole purpose of anonymously leaving repeated derogatory, hurtful comments to a total stranger is beyond me. I would think there are much more constructive pursuits, like finding a story you actually enjoy, or writing one of your own that will meet your standards. Seems more logical to me.**


	31. Chapter 31

**Sorry this chapter took so long! Not sure why I was wrestling with this one. You'd think it would have been easy-peasy. The creative muse is tricky like that.**

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><p>Alice scowled at the mixing bowl on the counter in front of her. The batter didn't look right - too runny. She'd watched Edward make blueberry pancakes a hundred times, and she thought she'd followed his recipe to the letter. So what was missing?<p>

She had just dipped one index finger into the bowl when she spied movement out of the corner of one eye. Her batter-covered finger was already in her mouth by the time she realized Bella Swan had just stepped into the kitchen.

Alice's eyes snapped to attention and she swallowed quickly. "You did not just see that," she said, more an order than a wish.

Bella laughed. "Okay, I didn't," she readily agreed. "But it's perfectly fine for the cook to taste the broth, in my opinion."

"Good! Or pancake batter, in this case," Alice replied.

She tried not to gape openly at the first sleep-over date her cousin had ever entertained in this house. But it was hard not to gaze in wonder at Bella's obvious bed-head and post-coital glow, not to mention Edward's borrowed t-shirt and sweats overwhelming her small frame. It was one thing to be awakened by muffled sex noises coming from the next bedroom, but quite another to see the living proof standing in her kitchen.

Bella felt her cheeks grow warm under Alice's appraisal. She involuntarily reached up to smooth her unruly hair and leaned across the counter to peer into the mixing bowl.

"Blueberry? My favorite," she said, hoping to keep the conversation focused on food.

"Mine too!" Alice exclaimed. "Edward makes them for me every Friday. I thought I'd try to return the favor for once. But I think I've messed up somewhere. The batter tastes all right, but it looks weird."

Bella gingerly reached for the mixing spoon and gave it a stir. "It is kind of thin," she agreed. "Just add a little more flour and it should be fine."

"You think? I mixed all the dry and wet ingredients separately like the recipe said. Is it okay to just add more flour now that I have everything mixed together?"

Bella let out a short laugh. "Yeah, it's fine. I do it all the time."

"Really?" Alice asked as she scooped some flour out of the nearby canister. "You cook a lot?"

"Not at school. But when I'm home I cook for my dad all the time. And my mom was never very good at it, so I learned how to fend for myself at a pretty young age."

"Wow, that's great." Alice sprinkled a little flour into the batter and looked to Bella for her cue to stop. "I was spoiled for a long time. My grandma was an awesome cook. She always tried to teach me but I never had much patience for it. Now I wish I'd paid more attention."

She stirred in silence for a moment, watching with relief as the batter thickened. Then she found herself talking again, spilling the things she usually kept to herself.

"I hate when I talk about Em like she's already gone. But sometimes it feels like she is. She can't cook anymore, not since the accident. I guess they let her bake cookies and stuff at the home, under supervision. And Edward helps her make lunch or dinner here sometimes when she's having one of her good days. But he has to measure everything out for her because she gets confused and doesn't remember what she did two minutes ago. He's so good with her - so patient. I get too upset, remembering how strong and independent she used to be. I just end up crying and have to leave the room."

Alice blinked back the film of tears that had formed just talking about it. She glanced at Bella and winced at the sympathetic look on her face. If there was one thing she had in common with Edward, it was dislike of anyone's pity.

"How's this?" she asked with forced cheer, tipping the mixing bowl in Bella's direction.

"Looks perfect. I think your grandmother would be proud."

Alice looked at the sincerity in Bella's brown eyes and understood exactly why Edward had fallen for her.

"So where's my cousin this morning?" she asked with a grin, turning to the electric griddle and checking the temperature dial. She glanced back at Bella and almost laughed at the embarrassed flush that had colored her face.

"He's in the bathroom. He'll be down in a minute, I'm sure."

Bella hoped he wasn't showering again. She'd refused to wash away the delicious scent that enveloped her after their morning sex. She didn't even want to put her own clothes back on. She knew she would have to later, for her afternoon classes. But until then, she would wallow in the remnants of the closeness they'd shared.

"Well, I hope you know CPR, because he may need it when he sees me actually making breakfast," Alice joked. "He's always getting on my case about being more self-sufficient. He's such a Neanderthal sometimes. He seems to think I need to learn how to cook in order to get a man. I'll bet you anything Jasper Whitlock doesn't give a rat's ass whether or not I can flip him a pancake in the morning."

She practically snorted as she spooned the batter onto the griddle. Bella sidled onto one of the high chairs at the bar and watched Alice carefully ladle out five more round circles onto the hot surface.

"So things went well between you and Jasper last night?" Bella asked.

"Very well," Alice answered, her grin nearing Cheshire cat proportions. "Not as well as your night with Edward, but I just met the guy. Give me time."

She gave Bella an eyebrow waggle that made her laugh and blush all over again. Alice wondered if the girl had any idea how unusual it was for her to be here, in the Cullen household, at nine a.m. She glanced out the entryway to the living room to make sure her cousin wasn't approaching.

"There's something you should know about Edward," she began. Bella's eyes widened, her expression anxious. Alice spoke quickly to reassure her.

"Look, I know how you met him. Considering what he does for a living, I know how hard it must be for you to get to close to him - to trust him. But for what it's worth, you should know that you're the first girl he's ever brought here to the house. The _only_ girl. I'm making breakfast for the both of you because this is actually a huge, momentous occasion, as far as I'm concerned. You're obviously really special to him. And he's special to me. So, voila! My first attempt at pancakes." She waved her arms over the griddle in the manner of a game show presenter. "Oh, and bacon. Shit! I forgot the bacon!"

And she was off to the refrigerator before Bella's slack jaw could close itself. As her mind processed the information Alice had just given her, her eyes gradually focused on the abandoned pancakes bubbling on the griddle.

"You need to turn those," she said, still in a daze. _The first girl - the _only_ girl - Edward ever brought home. . . ?_

Alice was too busy digging a frying pan out of the cupboards to hear her. Bella shook her head a couple of times to snap herself out of her stupor, then hopped off of the stool and padded over to the griddle on the countertop. She grabbed the spatula Alice had left there and began flipping the pancakes one by one.

Alice glanced over with a sigh of relief. "Thanks. I can't believe I forgot this. I'm usually so good at multi-tasking, too," she berated herself as she ripped at the packaging on the bacon.

"It's fine," Bella reassured her. "We can cover the pancakes with aluminum foil to keep them warm while the bacon is cooking."

"Good idea," Alice noted, wondering why she hadn't thought of that. "Crap, this is still half-frozen!" She slapped the entire slab of pork into the warm pan and began poking impatiently at it with a pair of tongs, hoping to hurry up the thawing process. Meanwhile, Bella took the initiative to search for a serving dish. Alice directed her to the right cupboard, then to the drawer holding the aluminum foil. She smiled as she watched Bella slide the spatula under one pancake to check for doneness.

"We make a good team," she observed. "Like in the bookstore."

Bella's answering smile matched hers. "Looks that way," she agreed.

They each turned their attention back to the task at hand, working side by side in silence for a moment. But once Bella had the finished pancakes safely under wraps, she couldn't help but question Alice's confession.

"I'm sorry, but how could I possibly be the first girl Edward has ever brought home? I mean, he's twenty-four years old. Surely there was somebody he dated at some point."

Alice shook her head emphatically. "Nope. He put most of his energy into music when he was younger. He had prom dates and stuff, but he'd pick them up at their houses - he never brought anyone back here to meet Em. Once he was in college, he hardly ever came home. He spent summers doing internships that took him all over the country, but never back here to Seattle. If he had any girlfriends, he never told us about them. And now . . ." she trailed off with a grimace. "Let's just say that Edward never brings his work home."

Bella nodded, getting the picture. So she was another first for him. His first virgin. And now, his first . . . what? What was she to him? Was there a name for it? Could an escort really have a _girlfriend_, by any standard definition of the word? And could she ever call a man in that profession her boyfriend?

The titles hardly seemed accurate, or adequate, when she remembered the look in his eyes just half an hour ago when their bodies had combusted in a fiery union that took her breath away. There were no labels to define or contain what they had together. It was too big for that. Too much. It felt very far removed from the life she lived when they were apart. The closest word Bella could find to describe it was _love_.

But that word was still a little scary. Premature, at best; foolish, at worst. She was afraid to assign it to the budding relationship she shared with Edward, even though it had crossed her mind more than once over the past twenty-four hours. Better to play it by ear, to simply live in the moment, than to let her imagination go wild and conjure up a future that revolved around the concept of love.

She watched Alice turn the bacon; listened to it sizzle and snap as it filled the kitchen with a tantalizing aroma. Surely the smell would lure Edward downstairs soon. She turned her eyes to the ceiling and wondered what was keeping him.

# # # # # # # # # #

Edward stood stock still in the bathroom, frowning into the mirror. He didn't particularly like looking at himself. If he studied his features too long, they began to take on fun-house mirror proportions: eyebrows too thick, eyes overly large and wide-set, nose too flat and crooked, chin aggressively prominent. Why on earth did women find him attractive?

But he didn't care about women, plural. He could muster the desire to impress only one. The girl whose very essence clung to him right now, sweet and heady. He had planned to shower, even though they had done so before going to sleep last night. But the sticky splendor of being inside her moments ago was not something he could willingly surrender. Not yet. Not until he had to get ready for his appointment tonight.

He couldn't think about that. His brain fairly screamed in protest at the prospect. Yet the thought prevailed, hanging above him, the proverbial dark cloud. Tonight's date was a regular. He knew what she liked, what she wanted, what he would be obligated to provide. He used to enjoy being with her. She was one of his preferred clients - funny, smart, attractive. She worked in PR and she often hired him as her date for industry events. That part would be easy. But later . . .

He sighed in frustration and watched his features harden. What the hell was he going to do about this? Bella deserved better. And if he planned to keep seeing her, something was going to have to give. He couldn't let it be her. How could he let go of the one person who had brought him back to life? He was past resenting her for making waves in the placid surface of his empty existence. She dove in deep, effortlessly, that first night. The depths to which she'd taken him were too exhilarating to trade for that shallow pool he'd mindlessly paddled before. Drowning in her was a welcome release.

But now he had to figure out how to swim.

_Charlotte. _The name bobbed into his head like a life-saving buoy. He hated to admit that the answer might lie with her. He dreaded asking her for a single penny of her late husband's money, but the truth was, it could help him out a lot. Maybe let him lighten his schedule with Renaissance Escorts so he could focus on getting into music again. He could put together a list of contacts from his years of study at Julliard and find out if there was a place for him somewhere.

But he knew what it would take to get back in fighting form, and it wouldn't happen overnight. He would need far more time to devote to practicing the piano, and he would have to commit to it one-hundred percent if he had any hope of getting back in the game. Music would have to become his number one priority again. But where did that leave Bella?

_She'll be concentrating on school, _he told himself. _We'll both be working on our careers. But this time I won't just be doing it for myself. I'll be doing it for the both of us._

He smiled grimly at his reflection, willing the mental pep talk to come true. To be possible. Attainable. Not just some pipe dream to be put on hold for another year, and another, while he continued whoring himself out to pay the bills.

"One thing's for sure," he announced to his skeptical expression in the mirror. "You won't know if you don't try."

He ran his hand through his hair, thinking that he should comb out the tangles Bella's clutching fingers had created, but wanting to do no such thing. He left the disarray intact and marched, buck naked, back to his bedroom. He rifled through his dresser for a clean t-shirt and sweatpants to cover his body, still coated in dried sweat and sexual discharge. He usually hated that feeling. Today it was a strangely intoxicating heaven he never wanted to leave.

He bounded down the stairs to the living room, slowing near the landing when he heard his name wafting from the kitchen.

"That's the thing," came Alice's voice. "You could make a huge difference in Edward's life. You already have. You could be the one person who can get him out of the business."

Bella's tone was unsure. "But I started out as one of his customers. How big of a hypocrite would I be if I asked him to give up his job for me?"

"Maybe you won't have to. At least not directly. Trust me, if Edward feels about you the way I think he does, he won't be able to keep up this double life for long. He's just not the type to screw around on someone who means something to him."

"How do you know that?" Bella replied in that abrupt candor of hers. "You said he's never had a girlfriend. Maybe he did and you just didn't know about it. Maybe he's able to compartmentalize and keep his work totally separate from his personal life."

"Maybe," Alice conceded doubtfully. "But I don't think he's devious enough for that. Most men are simple creatures. They can only concentrate on one thing at a time. For Edward, that was always music. After he gave that up, he put all his attention into cleaning up Em's finances and getting her into a place that specializes in treating Alzheimer's patients. All my pleas to get him to look for another way to pay for it fell on deaf ears. He's so fucking stubborn," she said with a sigh that he recognized well.

"But with you, he's different," he heard her continue. "He's like his old self. The Edward who used to have a sense of humor and some joy in life, despite the losses we both suffered as kids. I like that Edward. I want him to stick around. And I know you're the key to making that happen."

There was a short silence, as if Bella were absorbing her words. Edward knew he was.

"I hope so," she answered at last, in that soft alto that made his chest ache.

He decided it was time to make his presence known before his guilt at eavesdropping kicked in.

"Do I smell bacon?" he called, announcing his arrival before he reached the kitchen doorway.

"You know it," Alice replied with smug glee. "Observe," she ordered as he entered the room. He watched in surprise as she wielded a pair of tongs, lifting cooked pieces of bacon one by one from a frying pan into a paper towel-lined dish. "And I made pancakes, too!"

Bella nodded vigorously, lifting the foil off the plate of blueberry cakes to corroborate Alice's statement. Edward approached the two behind the counter and gave the pancakes a quick peek, along with a wink at Bella.

"Impressive," he said to his cousin. "And I might even believe you if Bella weren't here. It was nice of her to let you take the credit for making breakfast."

"What?!" Alice shrieked. "I'll have you know I made those pancakes from scratch all by myself. I followed Em's recipe, just like you always do."

"It's true," Bella piped up. "All I did was flip them over when they were ready."

"And tell me to add a little flour when the dough wasn't right. But I did the rest," she insisted with a pout. She gave Edward a slug on the arm for good measure.

"Hey! No violence before I've eaten," he ordered. He noticed Alice hadn't gotten out any plates or silverware yet, so he took care of that task, setting them in a row along the bar. She followed behind with the food, while Edward pulled a bar stool out for Bella. He did the same for Alice, waiting until she'd climbed onto the high chair before he seated himself between them.

"Such manners," she teased.

"I have a date I'm trying to impress here," he retorted. He turned to Bella with a grin. "Is it working?"

"Like a charm."

They loaded their plates, passed the syrup, and took a few bites before Edward proclaimed, "Alice, you have outdone yourself. You finally made your own breakfast, and it even tastes good to boot. Nice job."

Alice elbowed him and narrowed her eyes. "Of course it tastes good, oh ye of little faith. I've watched you do it for years. If you can make pancakes, anyone can."

"Ha. Nice," he shot back, then turned to Bella. "Do you see what I've had to put up with all these years?"

"Well, actually, I'm more interested in the fact that you make this breakfast every week for Alice. You didn't tell me you could cook," she said reproachfully.

Edward remembered their discussion about the subject quite well. Per usual, he had focused on her and disclosed little about himself. That was always his M.O. with clients. He'd known even then that it wouldn't work with her. Yet he still felt himself falling back on evasiveness, even after he'd revealed more to her last night than he'd revealed to anyone before.

"I do all right," he answered with a modest shrug. "Just basic stuff. I can whip up some eggs, and work a grill pretty well."

Alice leaned forward and addressed Bella. "Remember when I said I wish I'd paid more attention to Em when she tried to teach me to cook? Well, Edward did. Brown-noser," she added with a snort.

"At least I won't starve if In-N-Out Burger ever goes belly up."

"Says the guy who clogs an artery daily at Mott's Diner."

Alice was immediately sorry she let that one fly. She knew she'd hit the mark before Edward ever flinched. Even Bella gave her a funny look, and she realized they must have met there for their morning date the week before. She was ready to make some sort of apology when Edward took a different tack.

"Well, this meal isn't bad, as far as dress rehearsals go," he said.

Alice decided to play along. "Dress rehearsals?"

"Yeah. I'm assuming you're using us as guinea pigs so you can impress that Jasper Whitman guy from last night with your culinary skills."

"Whitlock," she corrected, looking as peeved as Edward hoped she would. "And trust me, I do not need to be able to cook to get a man, you chauvinist moron."

Edward chuckled and scooted his chair back. "Like shooting fish in a barrel," he said under his breath as he hopped down and headed for the refrigerator. "Would you ladies like something to drink? Milk? Orange juice? Maybe some coffee?" He picked up the empty pot from the coffeemaker on the counter and frowned at it. "Oh, sorry, there isn't any made. I'll just take care of that little oversight right now."

He smiled sweetly at Alice, who sneered in return. "Fine. I forgot the beverages, okay? I'm a sucky cook. See if I ever try to do something nice for you and your girlfriend again."

And there was the word, finally spoken out loud.

_Girlfriend._

It seemed to reverberate around the kitchen, echoing off the stainless steel, granite and tile, ringing in Bella's ears. She glanced at Edward for his reaction, but he was too busy staring at Alice, his mouth ajar.

"What?" she demanded, looking perplexed. "It sounded like you two were working up quite an appetite this morning, so I figured you wouldn't notice if the food wasn't up to par. Guess I was wrong."

"Alice!" Edward hissed at her indiscretion.

"Oh, come on," she said with a roll of her eyes. "Why are we pussyfooting around the subject? We're all grown-ups here. It's not like I need Sherlock Holmes to crack this code. I watched you last night at dinner together, all cozy and schmoopy-eyed, playing footsy under the table. And I won't even elaborate on the fact that the walls in this house aren't exactly sound-proof. You two are obviously crazy about each other. And I, for one, am ecstatic about that particular development. Aren't you?"

Her eyes darted between their faces, both painted in varying shades of embarrassment. She was beginning to suspect it would take some time and effort for these two to get out of their own way. She already knew her cousin was good at sabotaging himself, so she was hoping Bella would be different. But the girl seemed to waffle between confidence and insecurity whenever the wind changed. She wondered if Edward's profession was the sole culprit, or if there was something else holding her back.

She looked back at her cousin, his mouth drawn tight, eyes warning. She had overstepped, that much was clear. She bit her lip and braced herself.

"Whatever my relationship is with Bella, it's between her and me," he said, his voice low and eerily calm.

"Fine," Alice mumbled, not sounding particularly contrite. Her tone was more conciliatory when she turned to Bella. "I'm sorry if I offended you."

"You didn't," she denied, though her cheeks were still mottled pink. "And I thought breakfast was delicious, by the way. It was very thoughtful of you. Thanks."

Alice beamed at Bella's compliment. "You're welcome."

Edward flashed Bella grateful look, then exchanged one with his cousin that Bella couldn't quite read. They appeared to come to some sort of familial understanding - forgiveness requested and given by both sides - within a couple of seconds. Edward turned away to make the coffee and Alice sighed in what sounded like resignation.

Bella decided to diffuse the lingering tension by asking about Alice's classes. The conversation soon turned to the more benign topic of school, the girls comparing notes about teachers and assignments while Edward loaded the dishwasher. Bella rose from her stool to help, but he insisted that he and Alice had a system - whoever did the cooking was spared clean-up duties. Since Bella had flipped the flapjacks, he declared her exempt.

She was more than happy to sit back and watch his lithe form move around the kitchen instead. She was amazed at how much she loved watching him perform everyday mundane chores. It was a sight she knew she could get accustomed to in short order, should she be lucky enough to experience it again. She imagined what it would be like to live in this house, to curl up with Edward in that four-poster bed every night and wake up to the sight of him cooking breakfast for her. Alice had no idea how good she had it.

"You and I should meet for lunch on campus sometime," Alice suggested, interrupting her daydream. "What's your schedule like?"

A quick discussion determined that Thursday was a good day, since they both had several hours between classes and Bella didn't work until the evening.

"I'll call Jasper and see if he can come, too," Alice added enthusiastically. "He and I had lunch together at this great burger joint a few days ago. We should all meet up there. You too, Edward. I think you'd like him if you got to know him."

The girls both looked hopefully in Edward's direction. He turned to the bar with a sponge, wiping down the counter as he answered.

"I'll be with Em that day," he reminded them gently.

"Couldn't you just go see her afterward? It's not like she knows you're there half the time anyway," Alice wheedled.

Edward's face hardened around the edges. "She knows. Maybe if you went to see her more often, she'd remember you better, too."

It was Alice's turn to stiffen, her eyes watering at the wound he'd just inflicted. "Maybe," she whispered. "Maybe not."

Edward knew how hard it was for his cousin to watch the deterioration of their once-vibrant grandmother, so he let the subject drop.

"Lunch sounds good - maybe some other day. I promise I'll meet this Jasper kid if that's what you really want."

Alice giggled. "He's only a couple years younger than you, Edward. Honestly, you act like such an old man sometimes. You're not even twenty-five and I feel like I should get you a tweed suit and a cane for Christmas."

That drew a soft snort from Bella, to which Alice remarked, "Am I right? Maybe you can get Grandpa Edward here to loosen up a little."

"Oh, I think he's loose enough when he wants to be," she replied, eyes twinkling.

Alice watched her share one of those secret looks with her cousin, this one rife with innuendo. Maybe it wouldn't take as much time as she feared for the two of them to make some progress.

Edward tried to stifle his grin with a look of reproach. "Well, since I'm obviously the only voice of responsibility around here, I'm afraid it's my duty to remind you that you have your first class in less than an hour," he told Bella. "I can take you back to campus whenever you're ready."

Her heart sank at his words. One glance at the kitchen clock proved he was right. She felt like Cinderella, dreading her fairytale's end with each tick of the second hand.

"Yeah, I should go," she said, wondering if it sounded as much like a death knell as it felt. "I'll get my things."

She hopped off the bar stool and went to the landing where she'd hung her backpack last night. She grabbed it off the hook and headed back upstairs to retrieve her clothes, happy to find Edward at her heels. As soon as they were alone in his room again, she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her back against him.

"I'll miss you," he murmured in her ear, planting several small kisses on the tender skin beneath.

She leaned back against him and let her eyes close so she could concentrate on the feel of his body next to hers.

"I don't want to go," she replied, her voice sounding small and helpless. "Can't we just stay here and make everything else go away?"

He rocked her gently, exhaling into her hair and squeezing her more tightly. Her arms grasped his in return, her face turning toward his, cheek willfully scraping along the stubble of his jaw.

"I want to make it go away," he said, hoping she knew what he meant; wishing he could promise more. "I don't know exactly how, or how long it will take. But I want to change things. I want to be the kind of guy who actually deserves you for a girlfriend. The kind of guy you're not ashamed to call your boyfriend."

She pulled away slightly, only so she could turn to face him and look him in the eyes. "I'm not ashamed of you. I could never be ashamed of you. Yes, I'd love for you to find a different way to make a living. But your job doesn't define you. It's not who you are. It's just what you do. And you can always change what you do."

Edward felt his eyes welling up at her words; at her emphatic gaze. He wanted to say it out loud - those three little words of truth that rang through his head, over and over, desperate to be said and heard. But when he tried to form the syllables, he choked on them, and the tears threatened to spill over.

So he took her face in his hands pressed mute lips to hers, hard and desperate, to make her feel the meaning instead. He kissed her over and over, each one a silent profession, a tender plea. Her lips answered with passionate professions and assurances of their own.

_I love you, too._

# # # # # # # # # #

Edward's lips were still tingling as he headed back to his car.

Somehow he had managed to drag Bella from his bedroom, drive her back to her dorm room and deposit her there without making love to her again on the nearest padded surface. But the kisses? They were another story. Fast and furious, long and longing, they refused to be ignored or ended before their time. The kisses had their way with both of them. Edward was pretty sure the kisses were going to make Bella late for her first class, unless she attended it in his clothes, her tangled sex hair pulled into a messy knot at the nape of her neck.

He found out later that this was exactly what she did.

But for now, he ambled back to his C-70 in a love-struck daze, dick at half-mast, bee-stung lips pressed into a purposeful line. He pulled out his cell phone as he approached the car, knowing exactly what he had to do.

She answered on the third ring, her tone cool but tinged with warm surprise. He loved the sound of her voice even more today than usual.

"Edward - how nice to hear from you on a Monday morning. Is everything all right?"

"No, but it will be. I hope. Are you busy?"

"I'm never too busy for you, dear boy. You know that."

"Then I'll see you in twenty minutes."

"I look forward to it," she replied, but he had already hung up the phone.

Charlotte hummed to herself as she strolled to her desk and picked up the envelope that had just arrived in the mail. She pulled out the letter and read it once more, smiling with satisfaction at her small coup. After hearing the determination in Edward's voice just now, she had the feeling he would welcome her news far more readily than she had ever hoped.

She carried the envelope and its precious contents out to the veranda, settled into her favorite wicker chaise lounge, and waited for Edward to arrive.

* * *

><p><strong>Thanks for all the continued great feedback, everyone! And welcome, new readers - I'm so grateful for your follows, favorites and reviews. I actually answered them all for the last chapter! Can't promise that every time, but rest assured I read and appreciate every one.<strong>

**Random tidbit: I was listening to the beautiful Maroon 5 song "Sad" when I wrote the little scene in Edward's bedroom at the end. It's on their latest CD if you wanna check it out.**


	32. Chapter 32

Charlotte felt Edward's presence before she heard him.

She turned her head ever so slightly toward the patio doors at the sensation, waiting for his Italian leather-clad feet to appear. After all this time, he still dressed up to see her. He always arrived wearing some kind of slacks and dress shirt, designer shoes polished until she could see her reflection in them. She sensed that he liked the formality of it - a uniform, perhaps even a suit of armor, to protect him while he was on duty.

So the sight of worn sneakers and faded navy sweatpants approaching couldn't have taken her more off guard.

She started, whipping her head quickly toward the doorway, for a split second fearing that an intruder had just waltzed into her home. But her eyes followed the familiar lean line of Edward Cullen's t-shirted torso up to his unshaven face and ubiquitous sunglasses, made redundant under the brim of a baseball cap pulled low. She was struck harder by their age difference than ever before, and she felt foolish for every untoward idea that had ever crossed her mind.

"Hi Charlotte," came his usually silken voice, now rusty from the lack of take-out coffee to oil it. He sat down empty-handed in the chair nearest her chaise, leaning purposefully forward as he took off his sunglasses. "I'm glad you could see me early this week."

"It's no bother, I assure you," she replied, the anxious look in his eyes making her feel uneasy herself. "You're always welcome here, you know that."

"Thanks." She must have looked a bit gob-smacked still, because he quickly took off his ball cap and ran self-conscious fingers through his unwashed hair. "I'm sorry to show up looking like this. But I have something to ask you, and I knew if I waited, I wouldn't go through with it."

"It's actually rather refreshing to see you dressing your age," she said, hoping she sounded convincing. "Now by all means, speak your mind. Would you like some coffee or tea first?"

"No, no thanks," he said, still agitated. He began to worry the brim of his cap between long, nimble fingers, staring it down as if he could somehow convince it to do the talking. But once his lips started moving, the words poured out.

"I hate asking you for anything, especially since I'm not even sure how you can help. Because even if I had the mortgages paid off, I'd still have to pay for Em's nursing home care. I could file for Medicaid to cover it, but then they'd put a lien on the house, and that's exactly the thing I've been trying to avoid. The whole point of me going into the fucking escort business was so that I wouldn't have to sell off all my family heirlooms. I like being able to provide for all of us - Em and Alice and myself. But I don't know how much longer I can do this. I want out. I have to figure a way out."

He paused for a breath, while Charlotte slowly let out the one she'd been holding. His pleading gaze dropped and he became absorbed once more in the brim of his baseball cap.

"Edward, you know I'm more than happy to help you however I can. My offer to get those mortgages off your back still stands. I don't care about repayment."

"But I will pay you back. Even if it takes me the rest of my life, I will."

Charlotte chuckled. "Well, I won't be around long enough to see that day. We'll worry about a payment schedule later. It's worth every penny to me to lighten that burden on your shoulders. And maybe it'll be enough for you to go into a different line of work, even if it pays less."

"Maybe. That's what I'm hoping." The reflection of that hope glimmered faintly in Edward's eyes, and the sight of it was worth more than all the gold in Fort Knox to Charlotte.

"Do I even have to ask what - or should I say, who - brought on this epiphany?" She already knew the answer, but she wanted to hear it from him.

The bashful smile on Edward's face was reply enough, but it soon became wan. "She deserves better. I want to give her what she deserves."

Charlotte nodded slowly. "Bella? If I remember correctly."

It was Edward's turn to nod in answer.

"I'm sure she does," Charlotte agreed. "But let's not forget that you deserve better too, my dear."

His shrug was less emphatic than his nod, which made her sigh in exasperation.

"Well, whether you think so or not, you deserve good things in life. You deserve to follow a path that makes you happy. I believe you've already chosen your companion; now all you have to do is find the right path. And I think you already know what that is."

Edward looked up into her shrewd gaze. "I know. I've been thinking about that. I'm so out of practice, though, I don't even know where to begin. I don't know who'd hire me. Maybe a piano bar, or one of those department stores that likes to have some suit-guy sitting there playing classical music for ambience."

Charlotte glanced heavenward at his self deprecation. "I won't sit and listen to you sell yourself short. You've been doing enough of that for the past two years, wouldn't you say?"

Edward grimaced in acknowledgement.

"What if I gave you a good reason to get back in practice? Would you take it?"

His eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about? I'm not taking any more handouts. Borrowing money from you is hard enough."

"I'm not talking about a handout. I'm talking about an opportunity." She paused and picked up the letter propped against the arm of her lounge chair. She tapped it thoughtfully against the tip of her index finger, again reading the return address with satisfaction. "I assume you've heard of the Seattle International Piano Competition?"

Edward let out a small laugh. "Of course."

"You won a couple of junior titles there, if I'm not mistaken."

His brows knitted. "How did you . . . ?"

"The internet is a wondrous creation," she replied smoothly. "I found out all kinds of delightful things about you after a little digging. You entered that competition every year it was held, from the ages of eight to twenty, under the name Edward Masen. You even placed in several of them against the best in the world in your category."

Edward had straightened up in his chair as she casually reeled off his secrets like the innocuous bits of public information they were.

"That was a long time ago," he said softly.

"Four years. Not so long, when you get to be my age," she replied with a wry smile. "My point is, you missed the last competition because of your grandmother's failing health. What if I told you that you didn't have to miss the next one?"

He let out a sardonic laugh. "I'd tell you you're crazy. The competition is in October. Applications to enter were due months ago."

"Indeed, they were," she agreed, now tapping the corner of the envelope briefly against her bottom lip. "But my late husband, Peter, had several good friends in the Seattle arts community, one of whom happens to be on the admissions committee of the piano competition. I sent him an inquiry, and wouldn't you know? It turns out there's a slot open due to an unfortunate cancellation."

She paused for Edward's reaction, but he only stared at her, bewildered.

"You'll have to perform in the Amateur category, of course, since you're no longer a student, and not currently employed as a musician," she continued. "There's no cash prize to be won, but the exposure and prestige that could be gained would be quite advantageous to someone looking to get a foot in the door of the music business, wouldn't you agree?"

Edward gaped at her in disbelief. "I don't understand. It's too late for me to send in an audition CD."

Charlotte's cheeks colored slightly. "Well, I'm afraid I might have done something slightly . . . _duplicitous, _to that end."

His eyes narrowed as the puzzle pieces began to fall into place. When he spoke, his tone was eerily calm but utterly pointed.

"What did you do, Charlotte?"

She took a deep breath. "I may have recorded you playing the piano here once or twice without your knowledge."

The veranda was dead silent, save for the chirp of a few nearby birds and the soft hum of a riding mower from a distant neighbor's yard. Charlotte tried to read the look in Edward's eyes, but couldn't discern whether he was angry, incredulous, grateful, or some combination of the three.

"What are you telling me?" The calm in his voice was belied by a slight tremor.

"I'm telling you you're in." She reached out and offered him the envelope.

His hand trembled a little as he took it from her. He stared at it in shock before finally opening it and withdrawing the contents. He looked the acceptance letter over, shaking his head.

"I can't believe you did this," he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Please don't be too cross with me," she entreated. "You got in on your own merits. They heard you play - that was the deciding factor."

"What did you submit?"

"The final version of the piece you practiced last week. You repeated it until it was flawless, and that's what I sent. I also filled out the application under your real name, which I'm sure many on the admissions board still remember. I daresay they were happy to have you back in the competition."

He shook his head again, clearly overwhelmed. Charlotte just hoped it was in a good way. But when he finally looked up at her, his expression was bleak.

"This is only seven weeks away. That's not enough time for me to get in competitive shape."

"Nonsense," she argued. "You played that piece to perfection once, and it got you in the contest. You have seven weeks to make sure you can play it to perfection one more time."

"I'd have to practice every day, or close to it."

"Lucky for you that I have a piano and a conservatory at your disposable whenever you need it."

He balked at the offer. "I can't impose on you like that."

"It's no imposition, and even if it were, it's one I would gladly endure."

She could see the struggle on his face, but she wasn't about to let him talk himself out of this. His head continued to shake slowly from side to side, eyes looking over the letter as if it were written in some foreign language he was having difficulty translating.

"Play to win," she thought she heard him murmur at last.

"Come again?"

Edward raised his eyes to meet hers, and this time she saw only grateful determination there.

"I don't know how to thank you," he said softly, green eyes glossy with unshed tears.

"Yes, you do." She rose from her chair and lifted one arm, gesturing in the direction of the music room.

Edward stood, but instead of turning toward the house, he grabbed her up in a bear hug, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

"You're amazing," he said, his voice thick with emotion. It vibrated down her spine in a way she hadn't felt since the last time Peter had whispered in her ear. He clasped her shoulders as he pulled away to look down at her. "I'm going to do my best to make you proud, I swear."

"You already have," she told him.

But he had already released her and headed inside. Moments later, she heard the familiar sounds of his warm-up scales, and those simple ascending notes were the sweetest sounds she'd ever heard.

# # # # # # # # # #

Bella had fifty minutes to kill between her Ancient Greek Lit and her Art History classes. She knew what she should do: go back to the dorm, take a quick shower and put on fresh clothes that actually fit her.

But as she ambled through the quad, pulling up Edward's sagging sweatpants and feeling the late summer sun warm the cotton of his t-shirt, she couldn't bear the thought of taking them off. She pulled the neck of the shirt over her nose for a moment, taking a deep whiff of the musky scent that lingered there. No, these clothes were staying put.

_How bad do I look? _she wondered absently. She felt amazing. She hadn't come down from the euphoric cloud she'd been floating on for the past twenty-four hours, and she wasn't ready to strip the heavenly evidence from her body quite yet.

She sat down on what was becoming her favorite between-classes bench, then dug through her backpack for her cosmetics bag with a mirror attached. A quick glance showed the disheveled but undeniably glowing face of a girl who had been recently, thoroughly ravished by her . . . boyfriend?

Maybe. Possibly. Someday.

She wondered how long she could stick it out until "someday" arrived. When she was with Edward, the cocoon of intimacy that spun them together seemed impenetrable. But the minute she was alone, nagging fears began picking at her, leaving holes of doubt in that cloak of certainty. She hoped he was sincere about looking for an alternative to escorting, but until then, she knew she would have to be unbelievably strong.

If she couldn't, she'd have to walk away.

She turned sideways and brought her legs up on the bench, knees to her chin, wrapping her arms around the baggy fleece of Edward's sweatpants. She took a whiff of those, too, inhaling deeply before exhaling in a sigh.

"Hey, Swan, is that you?" a male voice called, shattering her reverie.

Bella looked over her shoulder to see Mike Newton approaching, and she cringed involuntarily before painting on a smile. She hadn't seen him since the night she told him they could be friends and nothing more. He didn't seem too put off by it, though, if his gigantic grin was any indication.

"Hey, Mike," she said in greeting as he approached. "How's it going?"

"Great. Mind if I sit down?" he asked, indicating the empty half of the bench next to her sneaker-clad feet.

"'Course not."

He plopped down opposite Bella, dropping his backpack to the sidewalk below. He stretched one arm across the back of the bench, leaned back and gave her a quick once-over.

"Wow. Rough night?" he said with a laugh.

Her lips pursed indignantly while her hand reached up to smooth the haphazard bun at the back of her neck.

"What do you mean by that?" she snapped, trying to will her cheeks to stop blushing.

Mike's face fell in dismay as he tried to correct his blunder. "Nothing! I mean, you look great - you always look great. Maybe a little like you just rolled out of bed, but I'm guessing your alarm didn't go off or something this morning. Happens to all of us. I almost left the dorm without my pants last week - got all the way down the hall in my boxer shorts before Riley stopped me," he finished with a weak laugh. "You remember Riley, right?"

"Yeah, of course. Keeper of the good stash."

Mike grinned at that. "Indeed. You should come over some time and partake with us. We'll make sure you don't overdo it this time, though. We don't want a repeat performance of last time, do we?"

"No," Bella agreed, wincing. "Definitely not."

"You were so sick," he lamented. "And I don't need that rage-o-holic suit-guy of yours bashing my face in, either."

Bella let out a loud guffaw. "He would never do that. He isn't the least bit rage-y."

"Apparently you didn't get a good look at his face when he found you with us. I thought he was gonna rip off my nut sack and make me wear it as a party hat."

"That's ridiculous," she scoffed. "And gross."

Mike snickered. "You were drunk. You don't remember."

"I remember just fine. Edward took care of me all night long, even after I barfed on his shoes. Even after he had to watch me barf twenty more times before I was finished."

Mike shuddered slightly. "Poor Bella," he commiserated, taking the opportunity to reach over and give one of her shins a squeeze. "I guess suit-guy is a regular prince to put up with that, huh?" His sarcasm was hard to miss.

"He is, actually. Not many guys would clean up after a girl spewing Technicolor vomit into a dorm sink all night long."

Mike's expression grew sober. "I would. If you'd let me."

Bella couldn't handle the sincerity in those sky-blue eyes of his, and her gaze faltered and fell to the sidewalk. She heard his fingers drum the back of the bench; heard him draw in a long breath before speaking again.

"But that won't happen, because I'm not letting you get that wasted again." He nudged her left foot with his knee, prompting her to look up at him. "Seriously, Swan, I haven't seen you since our movie night. I hope you're not becoming a hermit. You can still party and have fun without overdoing it, you know. I'll police you myself," he offered with the quirk of an eyebrow and a half-joking grin.

"Now there's an offer I can't refuse," she answered, smiling in spite of herself.

"Officer Mike Newton, Booze Patrol, at your service - here to take any shot that comes at you." He pantomimed bringing a shot glass to his lips, throwing his head back and swallowing.

"Wow. How selfless of you," Bella replied with a roll of her eyes.

"It's true. I'm a giver like that," he said, splaying his hand over his heart for emphasis.

"That you are." It actually was true, she thought.

"So, what do you say? When are we gonna get together? There's a pledge party at my fraternity this Saturday night - you and Jess should come by. You know where the Delt house is, right?"

Bella did a double take. "I didn't know you were in a fraternity. When did that happen? You weren't even here during rush week, were you?"

"No, I couldn't make it because of my forestry internship. But I'm a Delta Tau Delta legacy, so they pretty much had to take me, the poor bastards," he said with a laugh.

"Legacy. What's that mean?"

"My dad and grandfather were both Delts, so basically that puts me at the top of the pledge list, even though I'm a sophomore. It's been a blast so far. They're easy on the hazing, hard on the studying and philanthropy. It'll probably be a good thing that they'll be on my ass to keep my grades up."

"Wow. That's cool. Congratulations," Bella told him. She didn't quite get the appeal of fraternities and sororities, but for a social animal like Mike, they were probably his own version of nirvana.

"Thanks. So, Saturday? Is it a date?"

She tried not to cringe at the term. Had he gotten nothing out of their last talk?

"Actually, I told my dad I'd go home to visit him for the weekend. I'm guessing he has a birthday present he wants to give me or something."

Mike's eyes grew round. "Your birthday! Oh, man, I forgot that was coming up. Next Tuesday, right? The big two-oh." His knee nudged her sneaker again. "Now that is an occasion to celebrate. Got any big plans?"

"Yeah, I do, sort of," she admitted. Bella realized she had no idea what Edward had planned for the day. She didn't care, as long as she was spending it with him.

Mike's face fell when he deduced her meaning. "I suppose suit-guy is taking you out to some fancy restaurant, huh?"

"I don't know, actually. He probably wants to surprise me."

He nodded, pursing his lips together in what looked like distaste. Then, in a flash, his smile returned. "That's fine. You can still ring in your birthday, college-style, the night before. Why don't we round up Jess and Riley and whoever else you want to invite - maybe go out for burgers, knock back a few beers, and sing Happy Birthday at midnight. Whaddya say?"

His expression was too hopeful to crush with a "no, thanks." Bella decided to suck it up and play along. Besides, it might be kind of fun to go out with a group. That way it wouldn't seem like a date, and maybe she could even steer Mike in Jessica's direction, if Jess was still interested.

Not to mention, it would be a nice distraction to keep her mind off of what Edward might be doing on the eve of her big day.

"Sure, sounds fun," she told him, trying to sound enthusiastic. "But please don't feel compelled to sing or anything on my account."

"Are you trying to tell me something about my singing ability? I think I'm offended. I think I'm wounded, actually."

"That's kind of how you sound when you sing," she said, putting on her best deadpan face. "Wounded."

"Oh!" he exclaimed, slamming his fist over his heart, then pulling an imaginary arrow from it in slow motion. "Straight for the jugular!"

"The truth hurts," she teased.

"Yeah, well, I'm gonna sing extra-loud right in your ear for that one, 'de-e-ear Bel-laahhh,'" he crooned, leaning in to bellow the last two words in her face.

"Stop!" She put one palm up to his chest and gave him a good-natured shove. "Save it for the actual day, for the love of God."

He only laughed. "Fine. Lucky for you, I gotta get to class anyway. I'll text everyone and get a little party group together, then I'll give you a call with the deets. Sound good?"

She nodded affirmatively.

"Cool. See you soon, Bella." She wasn't sure she liked the way he said her name - a little too soft, a touch too intimate.

He gave her shin another squeeze before he got up and left. She absently rubbed the spot where his hand had been as she watched him walk away. She realized she didn't want anyone touching her that way but Edward.

And she didn't want Edward touching anyone else that way, either.

She shivered despite the warm sun on her skin. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs, burying her face in his scent until it was time to leave for her next class.

# # # # # # # # # #

10: 38 p.m.

The crowd at the Christophe Gallery is beginning to thin.

Hors d'oeuvres starting out as miniature architectural marvels have been leveled to a rubble of crumbs on silver platters. A streaming champagne tower has been reduced to a few bubbling puddles in the bottom of lip-stick stained flutes. And an everything-old-is-new-again throwback to the heyday of impressionism has successfully shown his latest works to an appreciative crowd of wealthy Seattleites looking to expand their art collections.

The artist and his agent are in seventh heaven. Leslie Grimm, the PR rep for the gallery, is right behind them. Indeed, her cloud of blonde curls and pale satin gown give her a faintly angelic quality, tarnished only by her vibrantly painted face and fingernails.

She drains the last dregs of her fourth - or is it fifth? - champagne glass and surveys the stragglers, searching for her date. He is not hard to find. The wayward hair springing from the head of his six-foot-plus frame is instantly recognizable to her. He is still chatting with the artist, looking positively absorbed in the conversation. Damn, he is good. He always knows how to make a good impression on the people she needs him to, and for that alone, he is worth every penny.

But she knows what else Edward Cullen is good at, and in that arena, he is priceless.

_Hot damn, that boy is gorgeous_, she thinks as she glides across the room toward him, swaying slightly in an alcoholic torpor. Not one single painting in the room can rival the artistic planes of his face. She cannot help but admire how the cut of his suit complements his figure, lengthening his legs, broadening his shoulders, narrowing his waist. The work of art it creates is breath-taking. But she knows from experience that the canvas beneath is the real star.

She takes his forearm when she approaches, seamlessly inserting herself into the conversation. Small talk is made, congratulations are shared, and eventual good-byes are said. She is ready for the real fun to begin.

She keeps a socially acceptable distance as Edward escorts her to the parking garage. But the minute they reach a dimly lit corner, she is all over that suit, pulling at it, pressing against it, lifting herself up and pulling his sculpted face down to hers.

Something is missing in his kiss, she thinks; but perhaps she's just had too much to drink. She'll sober up a bit in the car on the way to the hotel, and he'll loosen up once they're in private.

"Where are you taking me?" she purrs as he guides her down the row of imports toward his convertible. "You know I love that suite at Hotel 1o00."

Did his lip just curl? Impossible. He loves that suite, too. It's his favorite, she knows.

"I'm taking you home," he says. He lets go of her hand and fishes for his keys. She stops dead in her tracks, too stunned for movement.

"Home?" she repeats, her own lip definitely curling in distaste. "My place is a mess. I had something a little more upscale in mind. Or at least more seductive."

She is using her best sex-siren voice on him. He smiles, but it is not the type of smile she wants to see. His expression is . . . polite. She would call it indifferent if she didn't know better.

"I can't spend the night with you tonight, Leslie."

She knows better now. His eyes reflect the cold, gray concrete and steel of the parking garage when he glances at her. She is still staring at the back of his head after he turns and walks toward his car, aiming the remote keys to unlock it. The electronic beep-beep seems to mock her.

She finally stumbles forward, a stilted, jilted walk of disbelief as he holds the passenger door open for her. She wants to smack the small, perfunctory grin off of his face. He can't be serious. Her ego won't let him be serious.

"I never said anything about spending the night," she counters, falling back on innuendo once more as she approaches. "An hour or two is all I need. As I recall, you can accomplish quite a lot in that time frame."

His perma-grin is maddening. It's almost a simper. "Some other time," he says, sounding somewhat dismissive. "But not tonight. I'm sorry."

Except that he clearly is not. She cannot disguise her incredulity now. Where is the Edward Cullen she knew? The one who was more than agreeable, even eager, to have a little fun at the end of the evening? She knows there is no guarantee of sex at the culmination of a Renaissance Escorts date, but it's an implied and understood part of the agreement that if she wants it, she will get it.

And she wants it. She has always wanted it from him. She wanted it the first time she saw him, and every time after that. She wants it now. Why doesn't he?

"What's the problem, Edward?" she coos, unable to give up just yet. She runs her hand along the fine gabardine of his jacket, over the lapels, smoothing his thin silk tie. "You didn't book someone else after me, did you?"

"No, of course not. It has nothing to do with you. I'm afraid I have to cut the evening short for personal reasons."

"Personal reasons," she echoes, wondering what on earth they could be. What a pathetic liar he is. Her stare is in danger of becoming a glare as she looks up at him. She is going to wipe that goddamned polite grin from his face if it's the last thing she does.

Her hand has reached his jaw now, already sandpapery to the touch though he started out the evening clean-shaven. Fuck, is that ever a turn-on. She knows she's about to become very undignified very soon. She catches the scent of him now, slight hints of soap lingering over musky male warmth; and she is afraid she's not above begging.

"I have a couple of personal issues of my own right now," she whispers, lifting her lips closer to his. "Needs, you might call them. I'm pretty sure you can take care of them before you turn into a pumpkin," she teases. Her other hand is wandering south, hovering around his waist, waiting for the signal to keep going. She has him backed against the open door now, the glow from the car's interior lighting her way.

"As tempting as that is . . ." He pauses to clasp her face firmly in one hand, impeding its progress toward his, "I have to decline."

"Decline?" She bursts into peals of champagne-fueled laughter, wrenching her face from his grasp. "I'm not a maxed-out credit card, for fuck's sake. What's gotten into you? You've never declined anything from me before. Not my kisses . . ." she plants her lips on his jaw, "not my blow jobs. . ." she slides her hand down over his crotch, "and certainly not my open legs."

She rubs her hand along the fabric-covered outline of his dick, willing it to harden. She's astonished, even insulted, that its response is half-hearted at best.

"What's with you?" she asks again, feeling an angry indignation rising in her chest. She continues to stroke his face and his sex, sure that he will cave one place or the other. "Where's the Edward Cullen who liked to have a little fun? A lot of fun, as I recall. Nasty fun," she murmurs, giving his chin a little bite. "Come on. You can't tell me your other clients let you ass-fuck them like I do. And I know you. You love nothing more than to give me a good anal pounding. And you know I love it, too. Go ahead - give it to me. Right here in the back of the car. Or bent over the hood, if that gets you off."

Though his lips resemble a sneer, his dick isn't nearly so put off. She delights in the slight thickening she feels, and she drops her other hand down to work at his zipper. She thrills to the sound of its metal teeth releasing. Her fingers are at the waistband of his cotton briefs, curling in his happy trail, and she knows she is almost there.

And then his hands are on her wrists, gripping tight, pulling her hands away from the prize. Effortlessly he wrenches her arms behind her own back, pinning them in place and pulling her closer. She lets out a tiny shriek of excitement at his roughness, only too happy to press her body against his. Her head lolls back, lips parted, waiting for his kiss.

Instead, she receives only more placating words.

"Leslie," he begins, in that achingly low, seductive tone of his. "Make no mistake. You are a gorgeous, sexy woman, and I am incredibly flattered that you want me. But it's not going to happen this time. Not tonight."

Her pride utterly stripped away, the truth finally hits her.

"Not ever," she says, her stunned eyes challenging him to refute her.

His silence is all the confirmation she needs.

Silence is their stifling companion during the drive to her high-rise. It retreats at last when Edward asks if he can walk her to her door.

"Don't bother," she whispers as she opens the car door and steps out. She turns back and looks him dead in the eyes, making no effort to hide her humiliation and anger.

"Good-bye, Edward," she says before slamming the door shut.

He watches until she is safely in the building before leaving.

He knows he has just lost his first client.

# # # # # # # # # #

11:22 p.m.

Bella has finally given up and showered.

She has also done her homework, listened to some depressing music, and written another poem that she deems too sappy and mundane to possibly express what she is really feeling. Which, at present, can be distilled down to a single word.

Melancholy.

She figures she might as well go to bed now.

She pulls clean pajamas out of her dresser, throws them on the bed and looks at them. The bottoms are covered in cartoon illustrations of coffee cups, grinders and beans, interspersed with the words "java," "latte," "espresso" and the like.

_Not exactly sleep-inducing_, she thinks wryly.

Edward's dirty clothes are laid out neatly over her plastic blow-up chair in the corner. She knows she should throw them in her laundry basket and wash them before she returns them to him. She wants to do none of the above.

11:27 p.m.

The java p.j.'s are back in the dresser. Bella is snuggled under the bed covers in Edward's clothes instead. She wonders if there's something wrong with her. All she knows is that the melancholy ache subsides a little every time she inhales his scent.

11:44 p.m.

She has fallen into that drowsy state between wakefulness and sleep when the musical cadence of her cell phone brings her back to consciousness. She picks it up from the nightstand and warm tingles surge through her when she sees who is on the other end.

"Edward," she says, more groggily and less sexily than she was aiming for.

"Did I wake you?" he asks, his voice wrapping around her like velvet ribbons.

"No," she lies. "Where are you?"

"In my bed," he replies. "Missing you."

"You're home?" she asks in surprise.

"Yeah. Early night."

She wonders if those words mean what she hopes they do.

"That's unusual," she replies, fishing for her answer.

"Not always. Tonight was pretty uneventful."

And now he has lied, too. But he's given her the truth she needed to hear.

"Mine was uneventful, too. Homework, mostly. A little writing."

"More poetry?"

She snorts softly. "If you can call it that."

"I don't care what you call it. It's great. You have a talent for putting words together in a powerful way."

"Thanks. It's nothing like your talent for putting musical notes together. But I try."

"I'm trying again, too." She thinks she detects something different in his tone - anticipation, almost excitement - as he continues. "Things are changing, Bella. For the better. I can feel it."

"Yeah? You think so?"

He can hear the wistfulness in her voice, and it cuts him deep, as only she can.

"I know so."

He sounds adamant. She's never heard him sound so sure before, and she smiles, feeling her melancholy dissipate like fog under the sun's rays.

"I believe you," she says.

She always says that, when most girls in her position wouldn't trust him as far as they could throw him. The way she gives her trust so freely makes him all the more desperate to earn it.

"I know you have an early class tomorrow," he says regretfully. "I'll let you get some sleep. I just wanted to hear your voice."

"I can't believe you remember my class schedule," she says with a surprised laugh.

"I told you. When it comes to you, I pay attention."

"Yeah, well, you've got my full attention, too. I'm glad you called. I always want to hear your voice."

"Then I'll call you again tomorrow."

"You promise?"

"I promise," he says.

_You have no idea how much I promise you_, he thinks as he hangs up the phone.

* * *

><p><strong>This was one of those chapters where I suddenly got the urge to do part of it in present tense. That's the fun of fanfic - having no editor to tell me I can't. ;)<strong>

**Once again, thanks to everyone for the wonderful reviews and comments, the adds and favorites - I'm overwhelmed that they're still coming in. *waves at any new readers who have made it this far!* You all truly make my day on a regular basis. I'm sorry I didn't get reviews answered last chapter, but in my defense, I wrote this 6,000+ word chapter in five days instead. Hope that will suffice. :)**

**I also spent most of last weekend getting caught up with Betti Gefecht's lovely and moving story, _Little Green and Easybella_. She's an amazingly talented woman who sent many readers my way with her fic rec, so it's high time I returned the favor! Her story number here on FFnet is 6412470 - enjoy!**


	33. Chapter 33

**Tuesday, September 6**

**11:03 a.m.**

**TEXT MESSAGES**

**From: Rosalie Hale**

**To: Edward Cullen**

_E - check your schedule for next week. I've added a couple of new clients. Mandy Cook Tuesday eve; Larissa Holcomb Thursday. Took the liberty of booking your usual suite at Hotel 1000 for Mandy - she's a shy one who will respond very well to your particular talents, I think. Larissa is the opposite - freshly divorced with money to burn. Excellent opportunity for repeat business. She wants to meet you at Canlis for dinner and then it's up to you._

Bad news - can't make either of those appointments. Personal reasons. You know Thursday is my day off. Please reschedule if you would, thanks.

_I've been pretty understanding about this Thursday rule of yours. I think you could bend it once in the interest of obtaining a potentially lucrative client. And if you needed Tuesday off, you should have let me know earlier_.

Sorry, I forgot to ask for the 13th off. But I have an appointment I can't get out of. As for my Thursdays rule, I'd say it's a pretty fair trade-off for me being available to you every fucking weekend for over two years now. Surely you can reschedule. Or find another escort who's available.

_Not sure I like the attitude I'm detecting here. I'll chalk it up to the shortcomings of texts. Just as I'll chalk up your failure to satisfy one of our best customers last night as a one-time occurrence. If it becomes a pattern, then we have a problem. Understood?_

Completely.

"Fuck you, Rosalie Hale," Edward hissed at the phone as he turned it off and shoved it in his back pocket. He was glad Charlotte was nowhere around - he felt guilty cursing in front of her, though he'd done it before - yesterday, in fact, when he was begging her for money. But she came through anyway. She was at the bank right now, making arrangements, while he wrestled with the keys of her Steinway, playing the same passage over and over until the notes and nuances were just right. He'd ignored the vibration of the phone in his pocket until he was done. He knew Bella was at work - she was scheduled for a few hours between classes. He wished he could call her right now, just to hear her voice. It gave him strength and reminded him why he was doing this.

All he had to do was get through seven more weeks. He knew Charlotte was right - if he made a good showing at the Seattle International Piano Competition, it could open a lot of doors for him in the world of classical music. He'd had something of a name locally when he was younger. He just needed to create a little buzz again - get them talking and hopefully considering him for any jobs that might open up. He would take whatever anyone offered at this point - anything to pad his resume and hone his skills.

Anything to help him hand Rosalie Hale his walking papers once and for all.

Damn that Leslie Grimm and her loose lips. He'd hoped he could trust her to keep mum about his refusal to sleep with her last night, but he should have known better. She probably took the rejection personally, and her retaliation was swift. He took a mental tally of the dates he knew he had lined up in the next few weeks. Could he get away with refusing sex that long?

He already knew the answer was "no." He had plenty more Leslies waiting in the wings, hiring him for very predictable and specific reasons. How long could he spurn his regulars before Rosalie bounced him out on his ass? Not seven weeks, that much was certain.

"Let her fire me," was his gut response. The thought of being intimate with anyone but Bella made his stomach turn. How had she accomplished that so fast? Many females had come before her, but none had ever touched him the way she did - made his insides twist and burn for one girl and one girl only. He knew she'd ruined him for other women that first night. That the need for her would only escalate; that having her again would only make him crave more, like a junkie jonesing for only the purest, uncut drug to give him that unparalleled high. Anything less would be a crushing disappointment.

But maybe that was what he would have to endure for just a little longer. Because as much as he abhorred the idea of sleeping with anyone else, he feared losing the only security he'd known since admitting his grandmother to Tranquility Gardens. Charlotte was in the process of taking care of a major chunk of his debt, and he couldn't bear to ask her for a penny more. He still had to make a living somehow. Sticking with Renaissance Escorts for the time being allowed him to pay the bills and still have most of his days free to practice for the piano competition. Suddenly his entire future seemed to hinge upon this one event, and how well he performed. Because if he excelled, it could be the ticket to leaving the escort business behind and obtaining a decent-paying music job instead.

All he had to do was tough it out for seven more weeks. Six and a half, really. Then, if the piano competition was a success, he could walk away from escorting and be the kind of man Bella deserved. But until that day, he vowed to keep his hopes and plans to himself, no matter how hard it was. He wasn't about to make a single promise to Bella he wasn't absolutely sure he could keep. He would give her no empty reassurances until he was certain he could back them up.

He paused for a moment and imagined surprising her with the good news . . . revealing that Charlotte had entered him in a piano contest, he'd performed well enough to get a job offer out of the deal, and he was done with the escort business for good. He pictured her face, first frozen in shock, then melting into pure joy as he picked her up and whirled her around. He wondered what such freedom, such happiness, would feel like.

He turned back to the piano with a smile of grim determination and stretched his fingers out over the keys. The happiness he longed for was literally in his own hands.

He wasn't about to blow it.

# # # # # # # # # #

**2:17 p.m.**

**TEXT MESSAGES**

**From: Edward Cullen**

**To: Bella Swan**

So, where's the text message you promised me today?

_What text message? Weren't you supposed to call me, anyway?_

The text message telling me you aren't pregnant. And I'll call you after your classes are done.

_I'm not pregnant. I have PMS like crazy. I'm sure Flo will visit me any time now_.

You're making me nervous.

_Don't be. It's day 28. No need for alarm._

Sure. Fine. So how's work? And how was your drawing class? I want to see some of your artwork.

_Work sucks. At least the mayhem of book rush is over. You'll love my artwork from today - first day we had a nude model. Female. Rather Botticelli-esque, complete with useless drape that covered only one calf and forearm._

Nice. Definitely want to see your sketches. For purely artistic reasons, of course.

_Of course. Geez. Don't you see enough naked women?_

Ouch. I deserved that. I try to see as few as possible. There's only one female figure I'm interested in studying nowadays. Which reminds me, what do you want to do for your birthday? It's your day. Tell me what you want and I'll make it happen.

_You know what I want - you, to myself. I don't like sharing. Not sure you can arrange that in one week. But I'll come up with something fun for us to do in the meantime._

I AM all yours, believe that. I'm working on making it happen. And on your birthday, rest assured, I will absolutely belong only to you.

_That's enough. For now._

I am one lucky bastard. I'll call you after your class.

_Good. After a 50-min. Global Politics lecture, I'll need to hear something positive._

I'll try to work up a little comedy routine for you.

_I don't need jokes. Just say something sweet to me._

That's easy. I'll start now. I've been thinking about you all day. Trying to figure out what to get you for your birthday.

_I told you - I just want you. You're on my mind all the time. Beginning to think it's a sickness. Don't care, don't want to get well._

You know you kill me when you say those things. I'm right there with you. I don't want a cure.

_Being together is the cure. Shit, class is starting. I'd better pay attention - I hate politics._

Birds of a feather. I'll call you later. XO

_XO back atcha._

# # # # # # # # # #

**Wednesday, September 7**

**4:14 p.m.**

**TEXT MESSAGES**

**From: Edward Cullen**

**To: Bella Swan**

Where is my text message today?

_What do you mean?_

You know what I mean. You're late, aren't you.

_Twenty-nine days is not late._

You said you were like clockwork.

_I am. Within a day or two. Don't panic. I'm sure it's coming soon_.

Christ. I can't believe that clinic doctor gave you dildos and lube but no condoms. What kind of Mickey Mouse operation is that place, anyway?

_Trust me, she insisted I use condoms. I'm the one who talked you out of it. If you want to be angry, be angry with me._

I'm mad at myself. I know better and I did it anyway. I wanted it, and I did it.

_But I pushed you. And trust me, I know better, too. We're both adults here. So let's act like it and not fly off the handle. I'm barely late - absolutely nothing to worry about._

But I do worry. That's what I do. That's what I am - a classic, dyed-in-the-wool worrier. And now I'm about to become a praying man, too, because this is the last thing you or I need right now.

_I know that. I'm sorry I was such an idiot. It won't happen again. We'll use condoms. Two-ply, if necessary. And I'll go on the pill or something as back-up. Just please stop freaking out._

I'm not freaking out. Yet. Sorry if I sound like an asshole. It's been a long day.

_Yeah? Have you been working already?_

Not like you think. I'm practicing the piano a bit. Trying to dust the cobwebs out of my fingers. It's frustrating at times.

_You're playing again? That's great! Don't let your insane perfectionism get in the way. You're incredibly talented. Enjoy it instead of being so self-critical. My favorite Edward is the one who throws caution to the wind and goes for it, perfection be damned_.

He does have his merits, with the huge exception that he may have gotten you pregnant.

_Oh good grief. That's my cue to go. Actually I really do need to get to work. Please try not to worry yourself to death. I will text you the second my period starts. Which is kinda gross, when I think about it._

Not gross. Thoughtful. I'm sure we'd make beautiful babies together, but I'd prefer it to be many years from now.

_You've thought about our babies?_

Only because that throw-caution-to-the-wind guy was so careless. He's making me pay, with nightmares of diapers and spit-up and college tuition.

_STOP. I'm going now. Take comfort in your beautiful music, please. And the fact that you get to spend the day with Emily tomorrow._

All right. Have fun with Alice and Jasper at lunch tomorrow. She's still on me to come, too. I'll see how Em's doing in the morning, then maybe swing by, depending.

_I'd love that! I miss you so much. How can it only be two days since I've seen you? I'll never make it 'til next Tuesday. I am pathetic._

No, not pathetic. I like it. I feel the same way. I'll do my best to come but I can't promise anything.

_Okay. I won't beg. Unless you're into that sort of thing . . ._

I could be. *mind wanders* Don't let me keep you. Go to work. I don't want you to be late.

_That's the theme of the week, apparently._

Ha. Ha.

:)

# # # # # # # # # #

**Thursday, September 8**

**7:58 a.m.**

Bella yawned and reached for the double espresso she'd picked up on her way to class. She wasn't much of a morning person. Eight o'clock was far too early for her to think coherently, which was why she scheduled her Life Drawing class then. Sometimes the less brain power she used while drawing, the better. At least that's what the instructor, a wizened and grizzled import from the Czech Republic, always told her in a thick accent whenever he paused by her easel.

"Fine. I see that you can draw. Now, loosen up your arm and draw with your whole body, not just your hand. Create the image from your gut, not your head. Stop trying to make it look perfect and feel the motion, the shape, the fluidity of your subject."

So she would stop the painstaking detail and sketch in big, swooping motions, while the professor bellowed, "Yes, yes! That's it," before moving to the next student in the circle of easels.

She always thought of Edward whenever the instructor accused her of perfectionism. Of course, it didn't take much to make her think of him. It was much harder to purge him from her mind and concentrate on school or work instead. Did all girls feel this way about their boyfriends? Angela and Ben had seemed to do just fine in high school. They were crazy about each other but still managed to get straight A's. Of course, they studied together all the time. Bella tried to imagine sitting across from Edward at the library, then laughed into her coffee cup as she lifted it to her lips. She knew the textbook wouldn't have a chance of holding her attention if he were in the vicinity. However, if he were the model in this class, that would be a different story entirely.

She was actually a little nervous about who would be posing today. She already knew the model would be male, since Tuesday's was female. She wondered if he would be as naked as the female was. That could be . . . awkward.

She soon got her answer. The professor arrived and introduced today's guinea pig without ceremony while the students got their drawing pads, pencils and charcoal ready. Bella rose from her stool, preferring to stand while sketching. She set her coffee cup on it and turned her attention to the instructor.

"I'd like you all to welcome our student model today, James. I will put him in more of an action pose than Megan was in Tuesday, so you can concentrate on his musculature. I want you to study the proportions of the body, and the bone structure and connective muscle beneath."

Bella took another swig of espresso while a blonde, pony-tailed guy in a blue robe sauntered to the middle of the room. He was attractive, but clearly knew it. His self-satisfied expression made him far less appealing to her. She watched as the professor met him inside the circle of easels, bringing a prop spear for him to hold.

And then, sixty seconds later, James was the stark naked centerpiece in a circle of bleary-eyed, pencil-wielding students. He held the spear aloft, lunging forward as if frozen in the act of throwing it at some wild game, or at an ancient warrior foe.

_Or at me, _Bella mentally added. He was facing her nearly dead-on, though he avoided direct eye contact. _Good luck holding that pose for long, _she thought with a snort.

James lasted for about ten minutes before he required a short break, his arm beginning to quiver, muscles straining with the effort of holding the object in the air. But Bella was glad for the diversion, concentrating on filling out the swell of each muscle group, from his overworked arm to the weight-bearing muscles of his thighs. Anything to keep from looking at his penis, which, from her angle, was difficult to avoid.

She was successful in her quest to keep the entire enterprise at the level of art for about twenty minutes. That's how long it took her to get the outline and coarse details of the model on paper. She had been able to concentrate purely on the mechanics of his body, breaking it down to its components, studying in pencil how they all connected and worked together. There were only two things missing from her drawing now: his face, and his genitals.

She felt her cheeks begin to warm as she tried to determine which to tackle first. She decided she'd better go south, because once she looked him in the eye, she'd never be able to look at his crotch again.

She lowered her gaze to the model's groin, willing her eyes to focus on what they had politely glossed over until now. She was rather stunned to be met with the sight of his semi-erect penis, well on its way to pointing right at her.

She tried not to gasp, or let her expression register even the slightest surprise. This was an art class, after all. They were here to appreciate and capture the beauty of the human form, not gawk at its proclivity for sexual arousal. Really, she should feel sorry for the guy, getting a woody in the middle of class. She supposed she couldn't blame him, with a roomful of eyes focused on his naked body. Increased blood flow to his member was probably an inadvertent, even unavoidable, side effect.

She followed the professor's instructions with relief now, quickly capturing the general shape of the model's genitals without going into pornographic detail. Still, by the time she was done, she could not escape the fact that he was definitely hard, his penis perpendicular to his body, bobbing slightly next to his lunging thigh. Good grief. Why did he have to be practically facing her? Why couldn't she have chosen an easel with a side view of the guy? Preferably one hiding his erection from her.

She turned away and grabbed her coffee off the stool. She took several sips, and deep breaths, before finally turning her eyes to the model's face. When she did, she couldn't help but start in surprise this time.

He was staring right at her.

He'd been watching her drink her coffee, his blue eyes clear and piercing across the room. His mouth twitched in a slight smirk when he caught her reaction. His arm twitched with the effort of aiming the prop spear at her, and his own spear followed suit.

She had no choice now but to endure his smirk as she tried to capture it in pencil. She drew his even, slightly bland features as quickly as possible, appalled that he was clearly taking pleasure in embarrassing her with his lewd gaze and matching hard-on. She hated the heat that mottled her cheeks several shades of red. She knew her mortification only delighted him. He was just that type.

She sighed with relief when she finished her rendering of the model, whom she had mentally dubbed Jackass James, with a few minutes to spare. She was even more relieved when the professor announced time was up, and brought James his robe. He donned it at a leisurely pace, as if enjoying his exhibitionism. He was probably proud of his big dick, although she'd seen bigger, she noted with her own smirk.

James began strolling around the room to look at everyone's sketches. Bella felt herself bristle when he drew near, the hair on the back of her neck rising. She busied herself putting her pencils away while he planted himself in front of her easel.

"Nice job," he said as he admired her handiwork. She was surprised at the genuine tone of his voice, so she hazarded a glance in his direction.

"You're very talented," he added, appearing to be the very the soul of sincerity.

"Thanks," she mumbled begrudgingly.

He smiled and turned to leave, but then suddenly leaned in to speak quietly in her ear.

"It's going to be a very long semester, though, if you keep getting me as hot and bothered as you did today."

She jerked back and gaped at him, not bothering to hide her dismay. He only chuckled, gave her that shit-eating grin, and sauntered on to the next easel.

Fuck. He couldn't be serious. She was not responsible for his erection. There were plenty of cute girls in her class, and some handsome guys too, for that matter. Any of them could have been the cause of his unfortunate predicament. He was just teasing her because she was an easy target. She really needed to work on her poker face. She couldn't let him rattle her if he was going to be a recurring model in this class.

She stored her supplies in one of the cubby-holes at the far end of the room, then bolted from the studio without looking back. As she hurried down the hall, she was disconcerted to feel a distinct wetness between her legs. What the hell? No way had she gotten aroused by that errant penis pointing at her. Not when it belonged to a smug bastard like James. Not when it didn't belong to Edward.

She made a beeline for the nearest ladies' room, lunged into the first stall and slung her backpack over the hook inside the door. She dropped her jeans and panties, took a quick look, and then sank onto the toilet with a ragged sigh.

Her period had started.

# # # # # # # # # #

**12:17 p.m.**

"Get out! It was pointing right at you? For real?"

Alice Cullen's face was the picture of astonished glee as she leaned in and planted her elbows on the restaurant table. She obviously found the art class story a lot more amusing than Bella did.

"Yes. It freaked me out. Well, at least it did after he told me I was the one responsible for it," she replied with a grimace.

"He did what? Explain, please."

Bella repeated the words James had whispered in her ear after class, feeling a little queasy as she spoke.

"No way! I can't believe he hit on you. That guy has some balls. I guess he figured that since you've already seen them, he might as well put 'em to good use!"

Alice erupted into laughter while Bella covered her face and groaned into her hands.

"That's disgusting. He was not hitting on me," she insisted. "He was just trying to needle me."

"'Needle' you? That's one way of putting it," Alice snorted before her attention wandered to a tall blond near the restaurant entrance. "Oh, here comes Jasper. We'll ask him for the male perspective."

"We'll do no such thing!" Bella hissed, while Alice waved her arms to get his attention. "Do not repeat that story. It's too embarrassing."

Alice blithely ignored her, calling out to Jasper as he approached. "Bella was just telling me the craziest thing right now."

"Oh yeah? Do tell," he said with a quick wave "hello" at Bella as he slid into the booth next to Alice.

"She's taking this figure drawing class that uses nude models, right? Well, today the model was some hot blond ponytail guy, and he got a boner right in the middle of class while he was watching Bella draw him."

Jasper's eyebrows raised while Bella's knitted. "I never said he was hot. And he did not get a boner because of me."

"Then why did he say he did?" Alice retorted with an evil grin, turning to her date. "He told her after class that it was gonna be a long semester if she got him that worked up every week. If that's not a come-on, then I don't know what is."

"Stop it, Alice. He was just trying to rattle me. He wasn't being serious. I'm sure he just got an erection because the entire room was staring at his naked body. You know, like an involuntary physiological response."

"Ha! You wish. You said the guy's little soldier was saluting right at _you_. Jasper, we need a male point of view on this. Was he hitting on Bella or not?"

Jasper raised a careful eyebrow at Alice, then Bella. "Well, most guys are pretty direct. If he said you were responsible for his . . . military salute, then he probably meant it."

"Ha!" Alice exclaimed in triumph.

"However," Jasper continued, giving Alice the eyebrow again, "Guys love to tease girls in general, especially the shy ones who look like they'd be easily embarrassed."

Bella flashed Alice a smug grin. "Exactly! That's me, right there. I blush at the drop of a hat. It's so annoying. I can never fool anybody."

Jasper caught Alice's pout from the corner of his eye and added one more thought. "Then again, he wouldn't bother to tease you like that if he wasn't attracted to you. So, yeah, he was hitting on you. Pretty blatantly, actually."

Bella's expression soured while Alice bounced giddily in her seat a couple of times. "Thank you, Jasper. The voice of reason. Oh, man, Edward is gonna be so pissed."

Bella's eyes bulged. "Don't tell Edward," she pleaded.

"Why not? It'll be good for him to know he's got a little competition," she asserted.

"But he doesn't. And I'm not interested in jerking him around like that."

Alice waved a dismissive hand. "What's good for the goose is good for the gander. Do not underestimate the power of a little good, old-fashioned jealousy. Let him sweat a little."

Jasper gave her a suspicious look. "Should I be worried about this philosophy of yours?"

"I don't know. Are you currently boning other women for money?"

Jasper looked taken aback at Alice's candor, then quickly recovered. "Not that I know of. Can't say I've had the opportunity, though. The day is young."

Alice caught the teasing glint in his eyes and good-naturedly elbowed his arm.

"That's not fair," Bella protested, feeling a little affronted at Alice's cavalier words. "You know Edward is trying to get out of the business."

"I know he wants to. I'd just like to see him back that up with a little action. If he's got something in the works, he hasn't told me what it is."

Alice's eyes were piercing, questioning. Evidently Edward didn't let her in on his secrets, either. _So much for getting any information out of his cousin,_ Bella thought with disappointment. Though Edward had alluded to some plan to leave escorting behind, she was hesitant to press him on the matter. For one thing, she still felt oddly hypocritical demanding such a thing, when Edward's occupation was what had brought them together. And for another, she was afraid to hope for something that might not happen for awhile.

Or ever.

Alice's face fell a little when she realized Bella didn't know any more than she did. Damn Edward, anyway - he always played his cards close to the vest. She hated when he didn't let her in, especially now that Em could no longer be her confidante. As hell-bent as he was on keeping their family's legacy intact, he sure could use a lesson in what the word "family" really meant.

Jasper cleared his throat and steered the conversation back to its original topic in an attempt to soothe a sore subject. "So, Bella: how does one enroll in this naked drawing class of yours? I'm thinking I should broaden my studies to include more of the fine arts. I mean, nude figure study could greatly enrich my understanding of the fundamentals of mechanical engineering."

The girls both giggled, especially Alice, which was what he was after. His slow, easy grin reminded Bella of Edward. Then again, pretty much anything reminded her of him nowadays.

"I'll see if there's an opening. You never know - after today, maybe a couple of people were offended enough to drop the class."

"What class is that?"

Bella nearly jumped out of the booth at the sound of talking velvet coming from behind her.

"Edward!" she and Alice exclaimed in unison. Bella looked up to see the object of her affection standing right there, hand on the back of the booth, eyes on her. His smile grew as fast as hers did once their eyes met. She quickly scooted over so he could sit down next to her, pressing his blue-jean-covered thigh against hers. The warmth that engulfed her seemed surreal. She barely heard Alice yammering as she stared up at Edward's glorious face after three century-long days apart.

"We were talking about Bella's art class," Alice explained. "She gets to draw hot, naked guys with massive stiffies while I'm sitting through mind-numbing economics lectures."

Edward raised one inquisitive brow, still staring at Bella.

"It wasn't massive," she quickly clarified. "It was no big deal. Literally."

Both of Edward's eyebrows were aloft now, as was the corner of his mouth, forming a bemused grin. "Sounds like the art models got a little more interesting today, huh?"

"You knew about this?" Alice looked a little deflated by the fact.

"I did," he confirmed. "But Tuesday's class had a female model."

"Again, how do I get into this class, Bella? What's the name of it?" Jasper piped up with a laugh. His grin quickly faded under Edward's withering look.

"Edward, you remember Jasper from last weekend, right?" Alice interjected quickly, giving her cousin a kick under the table. He flinched slightly but otherwise hid his irritation.

"Sure. Nice to see you again," he said coolly.

"Likewise. Glad you could make it today." Jasper's effort at civility was only slightly warmer.

Alice's shook her head in exasperation. "Anyway," she continued, "the guy Bella was drawing today had a real _thing _for her. So to speak."

"Is that so?" Edward turned expectantly to the girl sitting next to him for explanation. She squirmed uncomfortably under the laser probe of his eyes.

"No. He was just being a jerk," Bella mumbled.

Edward frowned while Alice filled in the blanks. "He complimented her drawing and then told her she was the reason he was sporting wood through half the class. So you be the judge."

Edward's laser eyes narrowed into tractor beams, aimed at Bella with the purpose of pulling the truth from her. She felt the usual traitorous blush warm her face.

"I'm sure he wasn't serious," she insisted once more. "He was just trying to get a rise out of me."

Jasper and Alice stifled guffaws at the double-entendre, and Bella's face turned redder.

"Don't even say it," she implored. "I walked right into that one."

She hesitantly looked up at Edward, who was still frowning. "Don't worry about it," she told him. "I don't even know how often we're going to have models in class. I may never have to deal with him again."

"Well, if he gives you any more trouble, you tell me. I'll take care of it."

Bella felt a slight chill at his tone. His mouth was set in a hard line, jaw clenched, eyes resembling chips of black ice again. He was dead serious. Instead of arguing that it wouldn't come to that, she found herself nodding in silent agreement. His fierce protectiveness was reassuring.

And, she had to admit, kind of hot.

Bella was thankful when the arrival of their waitress effectively halted the art class conversation. After they placed their orders, Bella grabbed Edward's hand under the table.

"I'm glad you could come," she said softly.

"I wanted to see you before you left for the weekend." He squeezed her hand, then began rubbing his thumb over the base of hers.

"Were you excited to get my text message this morning?"

"Ecstatic," he said with a relieved grin. "We dodged a bullet."

"I suppose so. I still think you were worrying for nothing." She leaned in and lowered her voice. "But I made another appointment at the clinic to get some birth control anyway."

"Smart girl," he said. "So, have you given any more thought to what you want to do on your birthday?"

"I have," she said, her face brightening. "I already know a couple of fun places we can go. But I'm not telling you what they are yet - it's a surprise."

"Wait a minute. The birthday girl is the one who's supposed to get the surprises, not the other way around."

"You can surprise me later. But I get out of class at 3:30 on Tuesday, and I know just where you can take me for the rest of the afternoon." She bounced a little in her seat and wondered if Alice's boundless enthusiasm was rubbing off on her.

"I'm intrigued," Edward replied, arching one thick, angular brow. "I think I like that compromise. You surprise me at the beginning of the evening, and I'll surprise you at the end of it."

The innuendo was hard to miss, and she felt the familiar shiver of anticipation ripple over her skin.

"Wait - did I hear the word 'birthday'?" Alice exclaimed from across the table. "Bella, is your birthday coming up?"

"Yeah, next Tuesday," she admitted.

"Really? Are you having a party? We should have a party!" She began bouncing again, eyes shining a bit too zealously for Bella's liking.

"We are having a party," Edward informed her. "A party of two." He let go of Bella's hand and put his arm around her shoulder to illustrate his point.

"Oh, I see," Alice commented with a sly little grin. "Well, what about the night before? We could all go out to dinner or something. What do you think?" She gave Bella a hopeful look.

"Well, actually, I am going out with some friends Monday night," she admitted, feeling a bit sheepish. She dreaded having to tell Edward she was going out with Mike, even though he obviously had no leg to stand on when it came to her seeing other guys. But maybe he wouldn't be bothered as much if his cousin was there, too.

"You know, you should come with us," Bella suggested, perking up at the prospect of Alice and Jasper joining the group. "I think we're just going to play some pool somewhere. I'd love it if you could all be there." She gave Edward a wistful look, assuming he would be working. The shadow of guilt clouding his face confirmed it.

"Sure! Sounds like fun," Alice said immediately, and Jasper agreed.

"I can pick Alice up and meet you," he offered. "Are you going someplace close to campus?"

"I don't know yet. My friend Mike is arranging it. I'm sure he'll text me the details soon, so I'll let you know."

"Mike," Edward echoed in poorly concealed displeasure. "So, your ex-boyfriend is throwing you a birthday party."

Alice's mouth formed a small "O" at that bit of information.

"No. Not a party. Just an informal gathering. A few old friends, maybe some of his frat buddies - I don't really know. It's not a big deal." Why did she keep finding herself saying that?

"Don't worry, Edward. We'll keep an eye on this Mike guy," Alice assured him. "Right, Jasper?"

"Absolutely," he replied, taking the opening to get in good with Alice's cousin.

"That really won't be necessary," Bella protested. "Mike is harmless. Persistent, maybe, but harmless."

"Hmm." Edward gave her a skeptical look. "I hope so."

Bella sighed, now finding his over-protectiveness more annoying than hot. An awkward lull in the conversation prompted the irrepressible Alice to introduce a new subject.

"So, Edward, how was Em this morning?"

"Not too bad. A little disappointed. I told her I was going to meet you for lunch and she asked me why you didn't come with me today. She thought it would be nice if the three of us ate lunch together."

Though Edward's tone was gentle, Alice still winced as if he'd struck her. "She asked about me?"

He nodded. "She remembered that it's been a few weeks since you visited her." He could not keep the reproach from his voice this time.

_That figures_, Alice thought. Her grandmother usually couldn't remember what she ate for breakfast - or if she ate at all - but she had to go and remember that.

"I'll go see her tomorrow," she murmured guiltily. She suddenly felt the warmth of Jasper's hand on her leg under the table, giving her a quick, reassuring squeeze. She put her hand over his, squeezing back gratefully. He turned his palm up and laced his fingers between hers. Alice smiled down at their hands joined together, knowing without question that she'd found "family" in him.

She was the grateful one this time when the waitress diverted their attention, setting platters of steaming burgers and fries on the table. The rest of the lunchtime conversation consisted mostly of Bella trying to convince everyone at the table not to buy her birthday presents, while they ignored her and tried to figure out what she would like.

"I already know what Bella will like," Edward said cryptically before popping a ketchup-coated fry in his mouth.

"You do, huh?" Bella replied, beginning to warm up to the idea of getting a gift from him.

"Absolutely," he replied with a knowing smirk.

"Well, then, share that with the rest of us who don't know her as well as you do," Alice prompted.

"Later," he promised. "When the birthday girl isn't within earshot."

Bella shot him an exasperated look before turning to Alice. "Honestly, you don't have to get me anything. I mean, we just met. Having you and Jasper come celebrate with me Monday night is really the best present."

"Aw, that's very Hallmark of you, Bella. But I'm not showing up empty-handed at your party. Don't worry, I already have an idea."

But the mischievous twinkle in Alice's eye only made Bella worry more.

After lunch, she tried again in vain to convince Edward to ditch the gift idea while he walked her to her truck.

"Please tell Alice and Jasper not to give me anything. I hate getting presents - it's embarrassing," she lamented.

"Embarrassing?" Edward repeated with a laugh. He grabbed her hand and linked his fingers through hers as they strolled, unhurried, down the sidewalk.

"Yeah. I hate being the center of attention like that, getting stuff from people for no good reason when I don't have anything to give back."

Edward seemed to find that amusing as well. "First of all, your birthday is a very good reason for people to celebrate and give you things. And second, you already give us something invaluable in return."

"Really? What's that?"

"Your friendship," he answered.

They'd reached the big red rust bucket by then. Edward leaned one hand against it, his outstretched arm blocking Bella from walking any further.

"And your honesty," he continued, leaning in closer, backing her against the truck's passenger door. "And that uncanny insight of yours. And your selflessness."

She let out a small laugh and shook her head. "I'm not selfless. I'm selfish. I want something I have no right to ask for. You can buy me all the presents you like, but you know what I really want."

He nodded, lifting his other hand to her face, sending those damned shivers in every direction though the weather outside was balmy. _I want to be the only one you touch this way, _she thought.

"I want the same thing," he whispered, as if he could read her mind. His lips hovered mere inches away, his eyes holding hers hostage. She felt his fingers wander along the side of her face, down to her jaw, then slowly over her trembling bottom lip.

"I want to give you everything," he said in that velveteen voice, his breath mingling with hers as his head dropped closer. "Everything you deserve."

His mouth muffled any argument from her about what she did or didn't deserve, and preempted any guarantee of what he could or couldn't give her. There was only this kiss, here and now, on a busy street filled with passersby who saw nothing more than the promise of a boy and girl falling in love.

* * *

><p><strong>In case you're wondering where I got the crazy idea for the nude male model with the unfortunate erection, the answer is, real life. It's always stranger than fiction! Years ago I took a Life Drawing class which used nude models, and one poor guy had quite the problem being the center of attention. Thankfully, I wasn't looking him straight in the . . . eyes, like Bella was - I was off to one side. But it was quite the challenge trying to figure out how to sketch him without the drawing turning pornographic!<strong>

**As always, many-many-MANY thanks to all of you who've reviewed, added and favorited this story. You all really keep me going. I failed miserably at answering reviews this time, so I apologize for that. I'm about to be further distracted by all the big November events in this country - the election, the release of BD2 and all the promotion that goes with it, and the Thanksgiving holiday. I really don't know when I'll find the time or focus to do much writing. But I'm guessing a lot of you are in the same boat and won't have a lot of time to read, either! **

**Special thanks to the wonderful Cared ( Careds4 on Twitter) for helping me put together the Pic Tease for this chapter and submitting it to The Fictionators and TwiFicNews this past Monday. Those of you who read it had a little heads up to the introduction of James in the story. And you know he can't be up to any good. . .**


	34. Chapter 34

**Sorry this update has taken so long! The holiday season is always a hectic one for me, and writing time has been hit and miss. Now that I've had time to catch up, this chapter has quickly grown into the longest yet in this story. I decided to break it up into two chapters instead so that I could post part of it now. The next one should be done in a couple of days. **

**So, without further ado. . .**

* * *

><p><strong>Sunday, September 11<strong>

"Keys. Wallet," Edward mumbled under his breath, patting his jeans pockets to take inventory before heading to Charlotte's place. He was just bolting down the stairs to the side landing when a knock sounded at that very door.

"Shit," was his second mumble. He realized he'd forgotten to make a Very Important Call this morning. He was cringing when he opened the door, but his expression was lost on the talking grocery sack and twelve-pack of Heineken that greeted him.

"I got chips, I got salsa, I got pretzels and nuts," Emmett's voice boomed from behind the bag. "I also picked up one of those fancy deli trays with ten different kinds of dead livestock and their milk by-products. But most important of all - libations!" He hoisted up the beer for emphasis.

"Wow. Shit," Edward repeated under his breath.

"Would you care to maybe help me with this?" Emmett grunted back, stepping into the doorway and shoving the twelve-pack at Edward.

"Sure, sorry," he replied, grabbing the box out of one beefy paw and heading back up the stairs to the kitchen, Emmett on his heels. The pair set the feast on the island countertop and Emmett began to unpack the groceries.

"You ready for another virtual ass-whipping, Eddie?" he taunted. He knew Edward hated that nickname, which was exactly why he relished using it.

"Well, see, that's the thing - I should have called you earlier. I really don't have time for video games today." His lips twisted into another sheepish cringe.

Emmett stopped unpacking and gave him an incredulous look. "Dude! It's Black Ops Sunday. You cannot bail on me. I've been looking forward to this rematch all week."

"I know. I'm really sorry. I kind of forgot about it, to be honest."

"Forgot?" Emmett's face registered complete incomprehension. "We've only been playing this game almost every weekend since I bought it for your birthday, which was how long ago?"

"Uh . . . three months?" Edward calculated, wincing slightly.

"Exactly. But you _forgot_ I'd be over." He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, waiting for an explanation.

"I know. I'm sorry, man. It's just . . . I've got a lot on my plate right now. I can't stick around this afternoon - I've got stuff I've got to take care of."

"_Stuff_?" Emmett's eyes were mere slivers of blue ice as he stared his friend down.

"Yeah," Edward replied, having trouble meeting his gaze. "I have an appointment I can't really get out of."

Emmett's chest heaved a quick snort of denial. "I checked your schedule before I came over. You don't have any bookings today. And you don't need me until tomorrow night, for that newbie - Mandy? I think that's her name."

"This isn't work-related," Edward countered.

Emmett's brows raised as realization dawned. "Oh, I get it. It's that girl, Bella, isn't it? You're seeing her on the side." He chuckled and shook his head. "I figured that was it."

"What do you mean? Figured_ what_ was it?"

"The complaints Rose has been getting," Emmett informed him. "You didn't think Lauren would be the only one, did you?"

Edward's heart sank a little, and his shoulders followed. "Great," he muttered. "Why hasn't Rosalie said anything to me about it?"

Emmett shrugged. "She was waiting until I talked to you today. Once again, I get the unenviable job of being your go-between. I know you two aren't exactly BFFs, but you really need to open the lines of communication a little bit. She is your boss. For now, anyway."

"For now?" Edward repeated. "What, is she canning me already?"

"No. She doesn't want to. But if you continue to . . . _disappoint_ some of the customers the way you have been lately, you won't leave her much choice."

Edward's lips pursed together as he nodded slowly. He knew it would come to this, but he'd been hoping he'd be able to buy more time than just a couple of weeks.

"Is that your strategy?" Emmett continued. "Playing the celibate card until requests for your services dwindle down to nothing?"

Edward shrugged one reluctant shoulder, knowing how shitty that must sound to the guy who'd gotten him the job in the first place. Emmett's expression confirmed it.

"Look, man. If you want out, just be upfront about it. Don't puss out and force Rose's hand. Don't you think you owe her a little better than that?"

Edward sighed under the weight of Emmett's judgment and slumped onto one of the kitchen stools.

"I know, I suck. I'll admit it - I was going to try to play both ends against the middle for awhile, hoping to put off the inevitable. I need the money, but I don't know how much longer I can keep escorting. I can't . . ." He stopped, trying to find the right words to explain. If he couldn't articulate to Bella how he felt about her, how could he say the words to Emmett? "I just don't have it in me anymore. Bullshitting woman after woman that I'm not interested in and then using them for sex."

"I hate to break it to you, but they're the ones using you, my friend," Emmett interjected gently. "And paying handsomely for the privilege, as you're well aware."

Edward let out a wry laugh. "Is that supposed to make me feel better? I can't be that guy anymore. That overpaid fantasy guy. Every night it gets harder for me to live the lie they demand, even for a few hours. I'm done with it - all of it. The problem is, I don't have a back-up plan in place yet. But I might in a few weeks, if things go my way."

"What things?" Emmett asked, hopping onto the stool opposite Edward and leaning his elbows on the granite countertop. "Talk to me, brother. What's all this about?"

Edward hesitated, wondering if he could trust Emmett to keep his confidence, especially now that he'd moved in with Rosalie.

"A great opportunity kind of fell in my lap. A friend entered me in the Seattle International Piano Competition next month, and I've been rehearsing every day, trying to get my chops back so I can do well in this thing. It could be my ticket out of escorting, if I can impress the right people. That's where I was headed now - to practice."

Emmett nodded, studying his friend with thoughtful eyes. "That's great news, man. That's what you should be doing - putting that education of yours to work. I know that's your dream, so you should definitely go for it."

He stopped and shook his head, chuckling. "It's the damnedest thing, though. When I first got you the job at Renaissance, I wasn't sure you were cut out for the escort business. I didn't think you'd last more than a couple of weeks, to be honest. Then you went and turned out to be one of Rose's best guys. She still gets more requests for you than she can book. You're pretty enough that the young ones aren't threatened by you, but still manly enough that the older women don't feel like they're robbing the cradle when they date you. And you're so fucking smooth, you charm every last one of them without even trying. It's like you were made for this gig. But your heart was never in it, was it?"

The question was rhetorical, but Edward answered anyway. "Is anyone's heart ever in it, in this business? I think the guys who don't have a heart to begin with have the biggest advantage. The ones who do had better learn to keep it under lock and key, or they won't last. As long as I kept it all in perspective and treated every date like the business transaction it was, I was fine. I never counted on anyone actually finding that damned key. I thought I had it well hidden."

His eyes drifted from Emmett's as he remembered sitting across the dinner table from Bella that first night, bound to her by a tension so thick that he knew something would have to give. He just never dreamed it would be him. He was so focused on breaking down her defenses that he didn't realize how quickly she was demolishing his own. She'd zeroed in on his vulnerability like a heat-seeking missile, not stopping until she'd stripped away his carefully constructed façade.

Maybe Bella never even found the key to his heart. That would have implied a gentle and welcome admittance, not a forceful intrusion. Her victory was far more swift and decisive than that. She simply broke the lock, kicked the door down and grabbed the bloody organ in her bare hands. But that vessel had never pumped so powerfully, so eagerly, as it did under her possessive touch. Edward couldn't begrudge her ownership. After all, his heart's new master seemed to be doing a hell of a better job making him feel alive than he ever did.

Or maybe he embraced her possession because she didn't lord her power over him or use his vulnerability against him. Instead, she opened her own door and offered herself in return. He recalled the thrill of utter triumph when she melted against him in the glow of the sunset coming through the hotel windows; when she lay naked and utterly exposed on the couch, looking up at him with a mixture of trepidation and trust.

She let the trust take over. Let braveness conquer fear.

Now it was his turn.

Emmett watched the battle taking place in his friend's eyes. It wasn't even a battle, really. He could see that Bella had already won. Or maybe Edward had - the real Edward. The one Emmett remembered from high school, two years his junior, a tangle of gangly limbs in gym class, but a graceful master behind the keyboard at school recitals. He'd done what he had to in order to survive. Now it was time for him to actually live.

"I know the feeling," Emmett said. "It's not like escorting was my dream job, either. But I never had a talent like yours. I had big NFL dreams when I was in high school, but I got my comeuppance pretty quickly in college. I lost my athletic scholarship after my first year - couldn't keep my grades up. I came home to work at my dad's construction firm with my tail between my legs."

Edward stared at him in surprise. "You never told me any of that."

Emmett's smile was wry. "It's not something I like to revisit. I'm sure you understand." Edward nodded in commiseration while Emmett continued. "I'll never forget the day Rose approached me. Some buddies and I had stopped at one of those highbrow cocktail bars near our construction site after work. We thought it would be fun to show up in our filthy dirty work clothes and mix it up with the suits. You know, show the white collars what real men look like."

Emmett let out a booming laugh at the memory. "It worked like a charm. You should have seen the women swarming around us. But Rose was the one who caught my eye. And I definitely caught hers. I was pretty damned shocked when she told me what she really wanted from me, though. I never dreamed when I went in that place that I'd be recruited by a modern-day madam."

He paused and reached for the twelve-pack of beer warming on the counter. "Mind if I have one of these? Maybe you should have one, too, for the road," he suggested, tearing into the box and handing Edward a beer before opening his own.

"Sure," Edward agreed, knowing he had a long afternoon ahead at Charlotte's.

"Anyway," Emmett continued after a couple of swigs, "I probably would have done anything Rose asked me to then. Jump through hoops, perform party tricks, dance around in a goddamned pink tutu - I didn't care. It was all a game to me then. I just wanted to get her attention. Get that icy blonde ball buster to want me as much as I wanted her. I used to describe every date she sent me on in excruciating detail, just to get a rise out of her. I wanted to make her jealous in the worst way. It was so fucking high school," he said with a rueful laugh.

"Yeah, but it worked," Edward noted. "She couldn't stand it. She used to ask me about you all the time when I first started. She wanted to know how I knew you, how we met. She interrogated me about you - she wanted to know everything. You were obviously the teacher's pet."

"Really? She used to grill you about me?" A satisfied grin captured Emmett's face. "She never let on, of course. Cool as a cucumber on the surface, that one. But those are the ones who burn the hottest underneath. Once you crack that ice, you're in for a hell of a ride."

It was Emmett's gaze that now drifted, burning bright with his own memories of the woman he loved. Edward had the feeling that his own story wasn't so different. Maybe you're never ready to meet the one who turns your world upside down and then gives it a violent shake or two for good measure. But if you're smart, you figure out how to roll with it, and maybe give as good as you get.

"Well, Rosalie made it pretty obvious where she stood when she took you off the market," Edward commented. "I laughed at first when she created that Enforcer position for you. But it's actually not a bad idea, giving new clients a bit of assurance that they're the ones in control, and nothing's going to happen that they don't want to happen. They don't have to know you'd never lay a hand on me." He grinned at Emmett before taking a few gulps of beer.

"But I would, if you ever touched a woman in any kind of way she didn't like."

"You know I'd never do that."

"Right. But there are a couple of guys on our roster that I don't entirely trust not to get carried away. I tag along for most of James and Felix's dates. James is just a little weasel, but Felix . . . I don't know what that guy's capable of. I kind of think Rose should cut him loose."

"The guy is huge, too. You don't want to get into it with him."

"I could take him," Emmett scoffed. "I've taken down bigger men than him in my day."

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that. For his dates' sakes," Edward said with a small shudder.

"Damn straight. Guess I won't have to worry about that with you, now that you're refusing to let little Eddie come out to play." Emmett's grin soon faded. "Seriously, though, you need to have a talk with Rose. Just be straight with her like you were with me. She could surprise you and cut you some slack if she knows why you're doing this. Otherwise, she might start to take it personally."

Edward let out a heavy sigh. "Fine. You're right, I do owe her that much. And you. Don't think I don't appreciate everything you've done for me, because I do. I mean that."

"I know you do," Emmett said with his usual easy smile. "Believe me, I get why you can't do it anymore. I couldn't go back to escorting now. What was it that Paul Newman always said about his wife? Something like, 'Why would I go out for hamburger when I have steak at home?' That pretty much sums it up for me."

Edward grinned at the analogy. "Words to live by."

He and Emmett raised their beers in a silent toast to the women in their lives before draining the bottles dry.

# # # # # # # # # #

**Monday, September 12**

_Hella-bo-Bella! Here's the plan for pre-Bday festivities. Dirty John's, 8 p.m. for pool, darts and the best hot wings in town, all within walking distance of the dorms. Riley and I will swing by your room to pick you up, then walk over to Jess's sorority to get her. We'll meet a few of-age Delt brothers at the bar for drinks and general merriment. C U then!_

Bella re-read the text message she'd received from Mike over the weekend while she was in Forks, visiting her father. There was no getting out of it now. At least Alice and Jasper would be there so she wouldn't have to worry about Mike and Jessica being the only people she knew. She still had hopes of playing match-maker for the latter, since she suspected Jess still had a thing for Mike after all these years.

She looked in the mirror once more, grabbing a brush and running it through her hair. She hadn't gone out of her way to fix herself up, since Dirty John's on a Monday night wasn't exactly a fancy occasion. Besides, if she looked as plain as possible, maybe Mike's interest in her would wane. Jess was much prettier, she thought as she regarded her pale, lightly freckled face in the mirror. Without make-up, Bella felt about as ordinary as they come.

So why did Edward look at her the way he did first thing in the morning, like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen? She knew better. She'd frowned at her pasty complexion and dark under-eye circles many a morning before a hot shower brought her to life. She was nothing like Edward, freakishly handsome in sleep, even when he frowned or snored or his mouth hung ajar. He looked better in his unconscious moments than most guys did when they'd made a conscious effort.

Well, not everyone could be like him. _Most of us need some conscious effort_, Bella thought to herself. She hoped the fact that she'd skipped it tonight would be enough to keep Mike at bay.

As if on cue, a cacophony of howling and fists banging on her dorm door signaled his arrival.

"Hella-bo-Bella!" came Mike's muffled call. "It's time for the birthday festivities to begin."

Bella marched to the door and jerked it open. "You know I hate that nickname," she reminded Mike's grinning mug.

"Sorry, Bells," he replied, resorting to one she could tolerate. "You ready to go?"

She liked that he looked a little uncertain as his eyes skimmed her baggy t-shirt, worn jeans and sneakers. Behind him, Riley stood grinning and waving, looking as casual as she did. She returned his easy smile, and wondered vaguely if he was already stoned.

"I'm ready as I'll ever be," she replied. "Just let me grab my bag."

Moments later they were strolling through the quad toward sorority row, making small talk about school, parties and the weather. It was always a topic of conversation if they were able to walk freely around campus without the sky pissing rain upon them.

The three were still gratefully dry when they showed up at the Grab A Thigh Later house, which Bella came to realize was actually Gamma Phi Beta, after Mike had pronounced it a couple of times. She opted to stay outside with Riley while Mike went in to get Jessica. Bella was in no mood to be confronted with bubbly sorority types, whom she imagined would be made up to the nines on a Monday night just to sit around the house and study. Jess did nothing to dispel her stereotypical notions when she appeared, bounding out on the landing in a fitted t-shirt and jeans that managed to look far more dressy than casual, as did her carefully curled hair.

"Hey, birthday girl! You ready to celebrate?" she exclaimed as she joined them, flashing her usual overly large, disingenuous smile. She barely waited for Bella's response before turning to Mike and chattering away about some upcoming Greek party.

Bella was only too happy to lag behind with laid-back Riley, trying to ignore Mike's apologetic glances over his shoulder as they all walked toward the bar.

"So, how's your Beastie Boys t-shirt faring these days?" she asked. "Did that jungle juice finally come out?"

"Yeah, it's looking fine. After a couple of washings, it's almost good as new. Well, for a twenty-year-old shirt," Riley added with a laugh.

"I still feel terrible about that," she lamented. "I'll be on the lookout for a replacement. There are a ton of thrift stores around here - you never know."

"Don't worry about it," he insisted. "Just have a good time tonight. Mike tells me this is your last night as a teenager. That's big."

"Yeah, I guess it is." Bella fell silent for a moment. It was finally here - the big 2-0. She was about to officially enter adulthood. She'd been so anxious to grow up and leave her awkward youth behind that she'd taken some pretty crazy steps to rush the process. Still, she couldn't regret them, because they'd led her to Edward. His words echoed in her head now, begging her not to hurry it along. _I wish you could see how special you are right now, where you are. _Who_ you are. _

Why was he the only one who'd made her believe it?

She didn't know, but she wished he were here right now to remind her.

# # # # # # # # # #

_Slu-u-u-u-u-rp._

Edward cringed at the sounds emanating from his date as she sucked another spoonful of tomato bisque between her thin lips. She stared carefully down at her bowl, methodically blowing on each spoonful of hot broth before noisily inhaling it into her mouth. He wished he'd cranked up the sound system up a little louder so the ambient music would drown her out.

Mandy Cook was rather typical of his younger customers. A bit shy and insecure, a bit plain, a bit plump. He'd escorted many a girl like this to social functions requiring a date, his presence providing evidence that the girl in question was desirable enough to get one.

But this girl had requested a private date. When Edward had informed Rosalie that he wasn't available Tuesday, she'd bumped his new client up a day. Apparently another regular had canceled on him. His boss said nothing about it, but Edward knew he would have to, and soon - especially after he insisted that Rose switch hotels for the date. He refused to entertain any more clients at Hotel 1000. Eventually he was going to have to explain why.

_Slu-u-u-u-urp._

Edward forced a smile. "Are you enjoying the soup?"

Mandy gulped loudly and looked up, hazel eyes bulging in alarm. They protruded to the degree that he suspected she had a thyroid problem.

"Very much," she replied, still looking slightly terrified. "How about you?"

"It's delicious," he agreed softly, reassuringly. "I think you'll like the chicken parmesan here, too."

She nodded, then bent over her bowl once more, a lock of wheat-colored hair falling over her forehead before she pushed it behind one ear. He'd quickly discerned that she was a simple girl with simple tastes. He feared that her reason for hiring him this evening would turn out to be just as elemental.

He tried not to make the obvious comparison, but he couldn't help it. Though the girl was quite different from Bella on the surface, she was proving to be identical in one increasingly apparent way.

Could Mandy Cook really be the second virgin to hire him for sex in less than a month?

# # # # # # # # # #

_Thwap!_

Bella's face fell at the sound of yet another of her darts missing the target entirely and bouncing harmlessly off the back wall of Dirty John's. Apparently her lack of athleticism extended even to the game of darts. She was just glad she hadn't nailed any of the bar patrons yet.

Mike, of course, was only too eager to help. For the third time in ten minutes, he positioned himself right behind her and closed a guiding hand over her arm. He instructed her once more in the art of setting her sights on the bull's eye, lining up the dart accordingly and hefting it so that it made the proper arc to hit its intended target. As soon as he stepped away, she tossed the tiny feathered arrow and watched it sail so high that it barely cleared the ceiling.

She heard Jess guffaw behind her while Mike and Riley assured her she'd get the hang of it. Then a fourth voice rang like a bell over the bar buzz, flooding her with relief.

"Go-o-o Bella!" cheered Alice Cullen, weaving her way through the crowd, Jasper right behind her. She applauded as she approached, but it was more good-natured than sarcastic. Bella took a deep bow in response.

"How do you like my mad darts skills?" she deadpanned.

Alice grabbed her up in a quick hug and spoke low in her ear. "Your aim was true when it came to my cousin. That's all I care about."

Bella flashed her first genuine smile of the evening.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she said. "You too, Jasper." She introduced them to the group, explaining that Alice was the cousin of her "friend," Edward. She didn't know what else to call him.

"Who's Edward?" she heard Riley murmur to Mike.

"The creepy suit guy who took her home after the party that night," Mike mumbled back.

Riley looked confused for a second before light dawned. "Oh, the guy she hurled on?" he said with a chortle.

Mike snickered and nodded, while Bella gave them both a sour look. She glanced at Alice to see if she'd heard, but she was busy talking to Jasper about what kind of beer to order. Apparently he was planning to provide the pitchers since he was twenty-one. Bella didn't notice Jessica approach, and jumped when she spoke close to her ear.

"Edward Cullen? Isn't that the name of the guy you said you hired to take your virginity?"

Bella's spine stiffened in shock. "What are you talking about?"

"That story you told us all at the dorm party, about giving it up to a paid escort. I thought you were joking." She arched one expectant eyebrow at Bella, clearly awaiting an explanation.

Bella's heart plummeted to the pit of her stomach as the memory of her drunken slip came rushing back. She swallowed and scrambled for a response.

"Of course, I was joking," she agreed, adding a laugh so phony that even the Queen of Fake, Jessica, was sure to pick up on it. "You saw how drunk I was. Whatever I said was just wishful thinking out loud. 'Cause Alice's cousin is, like, really good-looking," she added lamely.

"Oh yeah? I didn't get to meet him that night. Mike thought he was kind of a douche. But you know how guys are - he was probably just jealous," Jess responded with a phony laugh of her own. "I figured you were just kidding. I mean, who would actually do such a thing? Like, what kind of girl would pay a male hooker to pop her cherry?"

Jessica laughed again, but her eyes were mirthless as they branded Bella in unspoken condemnation.

Now they both knew exactly what kind of girl would do such a thing.

* * *

><p><strong>I can never thank you all enough for the adds, favorites and reviews - you guys are great. I'm sorry that I suck sometimes at responding, but please know that your support means the world to me. <strong>

**Special thanks to Caroline for letting me bounce ideas around with you - you have helped me more than you know.** **xoxo**


	35. Chapter 35

**I promised I'd post again in a few days, so here it is. No updates for almost two months, now almost 11,000 words in three days. Sorry about the inconsistency! That's what I get for posting as I write. *forehead slap***

**This one's for you, "Kit!" ;D**

* * *

><p><strong>Monday, September 12 (cont'd.)<strong>

_Slu-u-u-u-urp._

Mandy drained the last dregs of her goblet, then set it back on the table with an effervescent giggle.

"Wine really goes to my head," she explained, pushing her empty dessert plate to the side and leaning back in her chair.

Edward tried to keep his smile from being patronizing. "It's probably just the bubbles. This is sparkling cider."

Mandy's smile faded. "Cider?" she repeated.

He nodded and turned the bottle resting on the table so that she could see the label. "Alcohol free."

"Oh." She let out a feeble laugh, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment. For the twentieth time in as many minutes, he thought of the night he met Bella. His first dinner with Mandy had been every bit as awkward, but lacking the verbal repartee and sexual tension that had intrigued him then. So far, tonight's conversation had consisted of him asking his date politely boring questions about herself, to which she mumbled self-conscious one-word answers. This girl was even more cripplingly shy than Bella had been at first.

"You're only eighteen," he explained. "I can't in good conscience give you any hard liquor. I'm sure I don't need to remind you of the legal ramifications if I did."

"Legal ramifications?" she scoffed, the first honest exclamation she'd uttered this evening. "That's funny."

"How so?"

"Seriously?" she replied. "How is any of this legal?"

Edward bristled slightly, but made sure his congenial smile stayed intact. "Well, so far we've enjoyed a nice dinner and conversation. Last time I checked, that's pretty standard - and perfectly legal - behavior for a date between two consenting adults."

"But what about later?" she whispered, her cheeks coloring again before her eyes dropped to her lap, where she nervously twisted her hands.

"What _about_ later?" he replied. He took a sip of cider, wishing it were the real thing. "What do you expect to happen here tonight, Mandy?"

Her face was fire engine red now. "Well, I thought . . . I mean, aren't escorts basically . . . prostitutes?"

She looked him in the eye then, demanding clarification. He was tempted to tell her she'd hit the nail on the head, which was exactly why he wanted out.

Instead, he answered her question with another. "Is that what you came here for tonight? Sex?"

Her eyes fell to her lap once more. "I guess I thought that was part of the deal," she said, her voice quivering.

"It can be," he replied. _Just not with me._ "But if something of a sexual nature occurs, it's not part of any agreement you've made with Renaissance Escorts. That _would_ be illegal. And I'm sure neither of us wants to end up in jail."

Her face collapsed in relief. "Right. I get it," she said, unclasping her fingers and wiping her palms on her skirt. "Mum's the word. Our date is like Vegas - what happens here, stays here."

"Right," he agreed, his smile growing tight-lipped. "Which brings us back to the original question: What do expect to happen here?"

Her relief faded, her brows furrowing. "I thought we just came to an understanding. Do I have to spell it out for you?"

"Well, in my experience, if you can't talk about it, you probably aren't ready to do it."

She flinched and blinked several times. Her cheeks were still blotchy red, and her eyes were starting to match. He wasn't sure if she was angry or humiliated, but either way, he figured he'd better say something quickly before she began to cry.

"Mandy, I'm not trying to pick on you or put you on the spot. I just want to understand why you would do this. Why you would hire someone like me."

Her laugh was abrupt and incredulous. "Isn't it obvious? How else would a girl like me ever get a guy like you?"

It was Edward's turn for incredulity. This girl had more in common with Bella than he ever dreamed. "What do you even mean by that? How do you see the both of us?"

Her expression indicated that the answer should be evident. She slumped back in her chair, defeated. "Come on, Edward. Look at me. I'm a geek. A music nerd. My biggest accomplishment so far in life is that I made first chair violin in my high school orchestra, because it's the only thing I'm good at. The only thing I love. And that's fine with me, most of the time. I'm okay with being a nerd. I can accept my place in the archaic caste system known as high school."

She sighed in frustration. "But just once, I wanted to know what it feels like to be with the _hot_ guy, you know? To get the star quarterback of the football team instead of the acne-prone tuba player in marching band. Why are you laughing? It's not funny."

Edward shook his head, chuckling even harder at the irony of her misperceptions. "I'm sorry. I'm not laughing at you, I swear. I'm laughing because once I tell you who I really am, I'm pretty sure you'll want your money back."

# # # # # # # # # #

"Smile!"

Alice issued her singsong command while pointing Bella's new smartphone camera at the group gathered around the bar table. Bella's expression was bashful, Jasper appeared happy, Riley looked sleepy and Jessica was definitely grumpy. Dopey brought up the rear, Mike lunging in from behind the four of them, aping for the camera and pretending to roar in Bella's ear like a ferocious pantomime lion.

"This is a good one," Alice proclaimed, looking at the picture on the screen before flipping the camera so everyone else could see. They laughed and groaned in response, then turned back to the nearby dart board.

"This phone is awesome, Bella. Nice birthday present!" Alice commented as she studied the latest-and-greatest Android that Charlie had given Bella over the weekend.

"It was my mom's idea, and my dad went in on it with her. I think they're hoping I'll send them more pictures and text messages with it. Mom hates that I'm never on Facebook."

"Well, here. Let's send her this one," Alice suggested, fiddling with the device until she had the photo ready to send. Bella took the phone and found her mother's contact information, then typed a quick message: _Out with friends tonight for a pre-birthday celebration, using the new phone. Thanks again - love you. I promise I'll call soon._

"That's nice," Alice said, her tone wistful as she watched Bella send the text. It made Bella realize how lucky she was to have two living parents who cared about what she was doing and who she was doing it with. Too bad she couldn't actually reveal the half of it.

She turned to Alice and said, "Now all I need is a picture with you." Alice's face perked up when she handed the phone to Jasper and asked, "Will you do the honors?"

Alice threw her arm around Bella, beaming. Bella did the same while Jasper lined the girls up in the viewfinder.

"Perfect," he pronounced. "Now say 'whiskey.'"

"Whiske-e-y," Alice gamely sang, while Bella laughed. Then they both blinked from the blinding rays of the flash when Jasper took their picture. Alice grabbed the phone to look, then exclaimed, "I love it!"

Bella had to admit it was a good photo, though she felt plain once more next to her perfectly made-up friend. She began to think she should've have gone to a little more effort to look the part of the festive birthday girl.

She was sure of it when Alice scrolled through Bella's contacts until she found Edward, then began typing.

"What are you doing?" Bella demanded.

"Giving Edward a taste of what he's missing," she answered with a sly grin.

"No, don't," Bella protested, grabbing in vain for the phone while Alice held it out of reach. "He's working."

As soon as she offered that up as an excuse, she wondered what the hell she was saying. Was she really apologizing for interrupting his date with another girl? In what universe was that acceptable?

Not in Alice's, if her expression was any indication. "That's exactly why we should remind him what's really important." She finished typing, hit _send_, and then handed the phone back to Bella.

"What did you tell him?" She selected the sent messages and read the last one.

_Missing you. Wish you were here._

"It's the truth, isn't it?" Alice asked. Bella nodded. "Trust me, he'll be happy to see this, no matter what." She cut herself off before elaborating further on what he might be doing at the moment. "Now we just need to figure out how to make _you_ happy, at least while you're stuck here tonight."

"I am happy. I'm not stuck here. You guys are great."

Alice laughed at Bella's less-than-convincing reply. "So you don't feel stuck in the middle of this warped little love triangle?" She waved her hand in the direction of the group playing darts. "Jessica mooning over Mike, while he drools over you and you try to avoid the saliva. . . Not exactly the recipe for a great birthday party."

Bella winced. "It's that obvious, huh? I feel like I'm stuck in high school 2.0."

"You mean this was going on two years ago?" Jasper chimed in, picking the pitcher up from the table and emptying it into their glasses.

"Yep," Bella replied with a weary nod. "The difference was, back then I didn't realize how much Jess was crushing on Mike. I went to prom with him, and I'm starting to think she's never forgiven me for it. I was hoping to kind of nudge them together tonight." She studied the trio at the dart board. Jessica appeared to be playing the clumsy card now, tossing darts in every direction so that Mike would offer her the same personal assistance he'd given Bella. "Maybe it's finally working."

"As long as your attention is diverted," Alice agreed. "Otherwise all bets are off."

"Then we'll just have to keep Bella busy," Jasper announced, giving her a lopsided grin reminiscent of Edward's. "So, how's your pool game? Any better than darts?"

"Barely," she replied with a laugh. "But I've already humiliated myself at the dart board, so why not go for broke?"

Jasper stood up and scanned the bar, spotting an empty billiards table halfway across the room. "If we go quietly, maybe they won't notice we've left," he suggested in a stage whisper.

Alice giggled while Bella shook her head and grinned. The girls grabbed their beers and followed Jasper across the bar without looking back.

# # # # # # # # # #

"You went to _Juilliard_?"

Mandy pronounced the word with an awe more appropriate for a UFO sighting or religious experience. Her thyroid eyes bulged toward him again, face agog with reverence and a little envy as Edward nodded.

"That's my dream school," she informed him. "I've already applied for next year, but I'm applying at a dozen other schools as back-up. Because, you know, it's _Juilliard_," she repeated, still stunned at Edward's confession. She shook her head at him, clearly bewildered. "You got in, you graduated. So, why . . . _how_? How did you end up here?"

Edward's smile was grim. How many times had he asked himself that same question in the beginning? Until he'd gotten tired of the answers and quit wondering. Quit caring.

"I won't bore you with the details. Let's just say that life throws you curveballs. Sometimes you don't hit 'em out of the park. Sometimes you miss altogether and end up swinging at air. Then all of a sudden you're on the bench, looking for a way to get back in the game." He picked up his cider and took a sip, trying to avoid Mandy's pitying stare. "Sorry about the baseball analogy. Guess I should have looked for a musical one instead."

"That's okay." She was quiet once more, apparently more at a loss for words now than she was earlier. Edward didn't resist the urge to fill the empty air.

"Anyway, now you know the truth. I'm about as far from the high school quarterback as you can get. I'm no Prince Charming. I'm a frustrated musician who's paying the bills by whoring himself out to women. I know that's not what you signed up for. You didn't sign up for the ugly truth. You signed up for the fantasy. The pretense. And I used to be excellent at providing that - acting out someone else's dreams for a night so I could forget my own."

"What changed?" his date blurted. She appeared genuinely interested, like she wanted to understand.

But how could he explain what he didn't completely understand himself? All he saw was Bella's face in his mind. Flashes of the times he'd spent with her, the long journey they'd taken in such a brief amount of time. He saw her eyes - shrewd and perceptive, then passionate and loving; heard her words - brutal and honest, then warm and comforting; felt her body - rigid and cautious, then yielding and responsive.

It was her.

The change in him was Bella.

As he sought an answer to give his disillusioned date, he felt a strong vibration near his groin, and immediately thought of Bella's hands on him, bringing him to life. He sighed and reached for the phone in his pocket. Normally he wouldn't answer it during a date, but the jig was already up tonight.

"Sorry, I need to get this," he apologized, checking his messages. When he saw the image of Bella giving him that cute little grin of hers, he couldn't stop his own lips from matching it. She and Alice looked like they were having a good time. His smile turned bittersweet as he reread the message. He typed a quick reply:

_I miss you, too. I can't wait for tomorrow night. Happy Birthday, Bella._

He slid the phone back in his pocket, then turned his attention back to Mandy. Her confusion had been replaced by a knowing, bittersweet smile of her own.

"Well, I get it now," she said.

"Get what?"

"What changed. It was that girl."

"What girl?" He had kept the phone in his lap, hidden under the table. Mandy couldn't possibly have seen the photo message from Bella.

"The girl who just texted you," she said matter-of-factly, not falling for his evasiveness. _"_You obviously met someone who ended up being more than just a fantasy. Someone who could deal with the ugly truth," she asserted. "Someone real."

Edward stared, dumbfounded. How had this stranger, this high school girl, hit the nail on the head so precisely?

"That's very astute of you, Mandy," he said, his eyes narrowing. "Maybe you should apply some of that insight to your own life - look for someone real. That tuba player, for instance. Sounds like maybe you ought to give the guy a chance."

She groaned a little and rolled her eyes. "I know. He's all right. I mean, he's always been really nice to me. He's the only boy who's ever wanted to kiss me. And it wasn't awful, considering his braces. But those will be off in another month. And I think he must have ordered some of that acne stuff they advertise on TV all the time, 'cause he's been looking better. He's come a long way in the past couple of years. You should have seen what a dork he was when he was a freshman."

Edward chuckled. "Sounds like he's still growing up. Trying to figure out how to get it right. So am I, for that matter. Guys are a little slow sometimes. You've got to bear with us until we catch up."

"Well, you're already light years ahead of the guys I know," she answered with a snort. "I hope your girlfriend knows how lucky she is. Any girl who could get a smile like that out of you with just a text message . . . Well, I can only dream of doing that."

That brought a genuine grin to his lips, though he knew it was nothing like the ones he reserved for Bella. " I'll bet that if your tuba player was ever lucky enough to get a picture and a text message from you, you'd see that smile you're after."

"Maybe." Her cheeks flushed pink again, and she stared once more at her lap. She finally raised cautious eyes to his across the table. "So I suppose all of this means that nothing's going to happen here tonight, huh?"

Edward's half-grin was sympathetic. "I don't think that's what either of us really wants, is it?"

She couldn't meet his questioning eyes. "I don't know," she said, her voice uncertain. "I really like you. More than I thought I would. Maybe it's because I have a weakness for musicians. I wish I could hear you play. No, that would be bad. Then I'd like you even more, and you obviously don't feel the same way about me."

"I do like you," he contradicted her. "But you're right, my heart is with someone else. Don't you want to wait for someone whose heart belongs to you?"

She stared at him for a second, then let out an abrupt laugh. "Do you know how corny that sounds? And yet somehow, you make it sound completely reasonable. Like, why would I want to have sex with someone I don't love? When that's what you've been doing for a living for years. When that's what I paid you for tonight."

Edward's lip twitched at the irony. What if he had given Bella the same speech he'd just given Mandy? Maybe he should have. Maybe he should have refused her and sent her back to the likes of Mike or Jake. The thought made his skin crawl.

"I'm sorry. I told you you'd want your money back. And I'll make sure you get every penny, no questions asked. I'm well aware I did not provide the services you expected."

She frowned thoughtfully at the table before looking back up at him.

"No, it's okay. I don't need the money. This barely made a dent in my trust fund," she said with a shrug. "I'm kind of glad it went down like this. I think if you had just put on a big, fake show for me, I would have felt awful afterward, no matter how hard you tried to fool me. I think I would have felt empty. Used. Even though technically I would have been the one using you."

Edward nodded, relieved that she got it. That she didn't want the charade, regardless of what lay beneath. He wondered how long he could do this dance, night after night. How long he could get away with it.

"There is one thing I'd like, though," Mandy said, sounding shy once more.

Edward raised his eyebrows.

"Kiss me," she said softly. "Just once."

# # # # # # # # # #

"There you are!"

Mike sounded relieved as he approached the pool table. Behind him, Jessica appeared merely annoyed, while Riley was amiable, bordering on expressionless. Bella wondered if his pot use put him on such an even keel. If so, maybe she should consider partaking more often.

"Yeah, I gave up on the darts and thought I'd try my hand at pool. Jasper and Alice are giving me pointers." She gestured to them with her pool cue, and they each jumped quickly out of the path of the swinging stick.

"Yeah? That's great!" Mike answered with forced enthusiasm, smiling at the three of them. "So how's the game going?"

"Oh, I'm losing big-time," Bella said cheerfully. "But I haven't put anyone's eye out yet, and I only shot the cue ball off the table once. I even got a couple of solids in the pocket I was aiming at."

Mike laughed and said, "Yeah, I remember the day we met in gym class, when you nailed me with that volleyball. I should have known better than to make you attempt a bar game that involves flying objects."

Jessica snorted loudly behind him. "I guess some things never change, huh? When it comes to any activities involving balls, Bella doesn't have a clue what she's doing."

Bella gaped at her former friend, not believing what had just come out of her mouth. Jessica's joking tone didn't fool Bella. She knew exactly what kind of _balls_ Jess was referring to, and they weren't the sporting variety. No one else seemed to pick up on the innuendo. Then again, no one else seemed to remember Bella's drunken admission about the loss of her virginity, either, and Jessica hadn't broadcasted the news. Yet.

"It's no secret that I'm not very coordinated when it comes to sports," she said, trying to keep the conversation on topic. "Which is why I'm about to head back to the dorm after this match."

"What? No way. It's too early," Mike argued. "We have to sing Happy Birthday to you at midnight."

"I know, but I have an early class tomorrow. I really can't stay that late."

"All right," Mike said, sounding none to pleased. "Just let me know when you're ready and I'll walk you home."

"Oh, that won't be necessary," Alice interjected. "Jasper and I can give her a ride. I have a birthday present in the car that I need to give her, anyway."

"Alice! I said no presents, remember?"

"Yeah - she hates presents," Mike echoed. Bella couldn't decide if he looked smug because he knew her better than anyone else in the room, or worried because he evidently hadn't bought her anything. She was relieved he hadn't.

"That's ridiculous," Alice said, dismissing them both. "It's not a birthday without packages to open. Don't worry, it's nothing big," she told Bella. "I think you'll like it."

Bella pursed her lips and shook her head, knowing when she was beaten. Seconds later she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she didn't have to wonder who it belonged to.

"Listen, if you're going to leave soon, can I talk to you for a minute?" Mike asked, steering her away from the pool table toward a secluded corner of the bar. "I need to ask you something."

"What is it?"

Bella watched Mike bite his lip and take a deep breath. She knew that she wasn't going to like whatever he was about to say.

"So, on the walk over here earlier, you may have heard Jess and I talking about the big Greek party coming up."

Bella shook her head, biting her own lip now.

"Well, there's this All-Greek Cocktail Party in a couple of weeks at the Four Seasons. It's kind of a semi-formal dance open to all the U-Dub fraternities and sororities. It's held in one of the ballrooms, but tons of kids rent rooms in the hotel, too, so the party is basically everywhere and goes all night. I guess it's a really huge deal. Tons of fun." Mike cleared his throat while Bella waited for the bomb to drop. "So I was thinking that it would be even more fun if you came with me."

He stopped and looked at her expectantly, almost fearfully. Her stomach churned.

"You mean, like a date?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, not formally. Just, you know, friends going to a party together."

"You just said it was formal."

"Semi-formal. Cocktails dresses and suits. Not, like, ball gowns and tuxes," he assured her.

Bella glanced over at Jessica, who was sneaking looks at the two of them from over Riley's shoulder while pretending to pay attention to what he was saying.

"I don't know, Mike. This seems more like Jessica's kind of party."

"Jess?" He uttered her name as though the thought of asking her had never occurred to him. Bella wanted to smack him upside the head for being so obtuse.

"Yeah. You should ask her - I'll bet she'd love to go with you."

"I'm sure she'll already be there. Knowing her, she probably has some hot date lined up. It's open to everyone in the Greek system. That's why I wanted to ask you, since you wouldn't be able to go otherwise."

"Well, that's really thoughtful, but . . ."

"And the truth is, I know I'd have more fun with you," Mike interrupted. He shot her a pleading look with those big, round, sky-colored eyes of his. "I'd rather take you. Please come."

Bella sighed, hating that he put her in this position. She grasped at her last straw. "I'm seeing someone, remember?"

He nodded, though he apparently still refused to believe it. "So, it's exclusive? Is that what you're telling me? He's your _boyfriend_ now?"

There was that word again. It sounded like a mockery when Mike said it. Worse yet, it felt a little like a mockery right now, knowing that Edward was on a date with someone else.

"I told you that you and I are just friends," she said, gently but firmly. "I meant it."

Mike's lips pressed into a thin line and he looked away for a moment, deliberating. He finally shifted his gaze back to hers and said, "Fine. Then come with me as a friend. No funny business, I promise. Just fun."

"_Mike." _She could no longer conceal her exasperation.

"Don't say no yet. Say maybe. Just think about it, okay?" His baby blues begged hers again. "Please."

"Geezus." Bella just wanted this to be over, and return to the rest of the group. "All right. I'll think about it."

Mike looked inordinately grateful for the reprieve. He put his arm around her and said, "Thanks, Bells. I promise you, you won't regret it." He gave her a squeeze, then began guiding her back toward the pool table. As they neared their friends, he raised his voice and announced, "All right. Since the birthday girl insists on leaving early, she's forcing me to do this now."

He released her, cleared his throat, and began to bellow, "Happy Birthday to yo-o-o-u - everybody with me! - Happy Birthday to YO-O-OU!"

Bella groaned as the gang all joined in to finish the song, loudly and barely in tune, which culminated in applause and cheering from the entire bar by the end. Her face was burning as she took another quick bow so the clapping would die down.

Mike managed to get her to stay long enough to have a "birthday shot" of tequila with everyone before Alice intervened, reminding Bella about her early class. She made a good show of saying regretful good-byes before rushing out the door with Alice and Jasper.

"Thank you," she said with a sigh of relief when the cool night air hit her face.

"De nada," Alice replied as they headed down the sidewalk. "What are new friends for, if not to save you from the clutches of the old ones?"

Bella couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I'd say Jessica is definitely on my list of ex-friends now. And Mike is proving that ex-boyfriends aren't good candidates for friends, either."

"That Jessica is a piece of work," Jasper commented. "If looks could kill, Alice and I would be taking you to the cemetery instead of the dorm right now."

"Seriously!" Alice agreed with a shudder. "What was up with Mike cornering you, anyway? What did he say?"

"He wants me to go to some big party with him in a couple of weeks. Just as friends, of course," she added with a smidge of sarcasm.

"Yeah, right," Alice snorted. "'Friends,' my ass. He hasn't given up. Not by a long shot."

Bella looked over in time to see Alice's boyfriend nodding in agreement. If an unbiased source like Jasper saw it, then it must be true.

"I told him he should ask Jessica. But I'm beginning to think I wouldn't wish her on anyone, least of all Mike."

"I don't know, I think they're kind of perfect for each other," Alice said, making a face and then giggling. "Besides, doesn't he know your spoken for?"

"Yeah. He's even met Edward, actually," Bella told them. "But it's kind of hard for me to make a good argument that I'm taken when he's out with other girls most nights of the week."

They all fell silent then. Bella knew there was really no argument to be made until Edward was truly free to be with her. She hated feeling in limbo, more now than ever. It seemed to get harder every day rather than easier.

"My car is over here," Jasper said at last, pointing at a rough-looking Ford F150 that had seen better days.

"Nice!" Bella exclaimed as they approached. "Truck owners unite!"

"You drive a truck?" Jasper exclaimed in surprise.

"Yeah, a vintage Chevy. It looks like a tank. I love it," Bella enthused.

"I'd like to see that," he said with a grin.

"Well, just drop me off at the parking garage and you can take a look at it."

"Sweet." He unlocked the passenger door and let it fall open with a screech.

"That sounds familiar," she said with a laugh.

"Bella, you get in back - your present is there so you can open it," Alice urged.

Bella complied, scooting in next to two flat packages wrapped in tastefully filigreed paper and gauzy bows.

"These are too pretty to open," she protested as she fingered the smaller of the boxes.

"Don't be silly," Alice said, perching on her knees in the front seat and leaning over the back to watch. "Let 'er rip!"

Jasper twisted in the driver seat and poked his head over the back along with Alice's while Bella carefully undid the ribbon. She then slowly peeled back the frosted tape at one end of the package. Alice groaned in frustration at her leisurely pace. Bella ignored her and gingerly pulled back the wrapping paper to reveal a set of high-end drawing pencils, graduating from hard to soft lead.

"Drawing pencils? Really?" Bella demanded, knowing that the nude models in her Life Drawing class were the inspiration for Alice's gift choice.

"Yes, really," Alice replied. "It's not what you think - they're not for your drawing class. I figure you already have all the art supplies you need for your porno pictures. These are for your own personal use. Open the other present - it's a sketch book. Big enough for you to make nice sketches, but small enough to carry around with you. I thought you might want to work with a more agreeable subject than boner-guy in your art class." She waggled a knowing eyebrow at Bella a couple of times.

Bella couldn't help but smile as she carefully tore the wrapping off the sketch book. "These are great, Alice. Perfect, actually. Thanks."

"You're welcome." Alice finally turned her satisfied face around to the front of the truck as Jasper started the engine. Bella found the familiar metallic roar comforting. She wrapped her arms around her birthday gifts and thought of the subject she most wanted to capture.

Maybe tomorrow night she would get her chance.

# # # # # # # # #

Every muscle in Edward's face felt frozen, molded into a congenial mask so that he wouldn't grimace at the request.

_Kiss me_.

Kissing clients was always the thing he hated most. He'd often thought that whoever wrote the script for _Pretty Woman _had been on to something. The character of Kit had advised fellow hooker Vivian never to kiss anyone on the mouth, because it was "too personal." And they were right.

Kissing was an activity in which there was nowhere to hide. Two pairs of windows to the soul met face to face, mere inches apart, revealing all or desperately trying to pull down the shades. Two pairs of lips perched precariously close, breathing each other's breath, capable of delivering the sweetest caresses or the most vicious slings and arrows.

Kissing was dangerous.

Fucking was easier. Fucking didn't have to be personal at all. Fucking allowed one to block any influence from one's conscience or soul by simply giving in to hormonal imperatives instead. Fucking could be reduced to the mechanics of body parts meeting, creating friction, getting off, getting it over with. Getting out.

That's what he'd done for over two years, with great success. He didn't need to be reminded why those days were over. Mandy's observations had driven the point home with startling clarity.

"Just pretend I'm her," came her plaintive voice from across the table, cracking his mask of politeness. "Just for a minute."

He let out a sigh and rose from his chair, walking to the other side of the table and offering her his hand. She looked up at him in surprise and took it, then stood up next to him. She was a big girl, taller and sturdier than Bella. But there was a certain sweetness to her round features, her bulbous hazel eyes gazing up at him, that made a smile come to his face. He reached out to touch her, grazing his fingers against one smooth, peach-colored cheek.

"I won't insult you that way," he said. "I'll kiss _you_. No pretending."

His face hiding nothing, he leaned down and gently brushed his lips against hers.

She gasped in surprise. Too late, she tried to prolong the kiss, pursing her narrow pink lips against his as he pulled away. She let out a dejected sigh.

"That's probably how you kiss your grandmother," she grumbled.

He grinned and gave her cheek a gentle squeeze before he dropped his hand. "Definitely not. I don't kiss my grandmother on the mouth."

She snorted softly. "You're a good guy, Edward. A shitty prostitute, but a good guy."

He chortled at that. "I'll take that assessment."

She looked up at him with regretful eyes. "I do kind of wish I'd met you before the girl on the phone did. Because I think you would have been an amazing first time."

He could only give her a half grin now. "Well, look at it this way: You still have your first time ahead of you, and no regrets about tonight."

She nodded, though she didn't look entirely convinced. She turned and picked her purse up off the nearby chair, evidently realizing that this date was now over. Edward followed her to the hotel door, holding it open for her. She stopped and gave him a pointed look.

"You know, you ought to give up this whole escorting thing. It's really not fair."

"I know. I'm sorry I disappointed you. I was serious about refunding your money; it's no problem."

"No, I didn't mean me," she clarified. "I meant, it's not fair to your girlfriend."

He stood stock-still for a moment, letting the door swing shut behind him as Mandy walked down the hall toward the elevators.

"I'll be there in a minute," he called after her, reaching for his phone. He selected the proper speed dial, then waited for the automated message to finish before speaking.

"Rosalie, it's Edward. We need to talk."

* * *

><p><strong>Feels like I oughta throw a little Dun-dun-DUN music in there. ;)<strong>

**Thanks again for all the support, guys. I just hope you're as entertained reading as I am writing. Not gonna lie, I'm excited to write Bella's birthday date with Edward. I have good things planned. Very good things. *rubs hands together in anticipation***

**Oh, and I forgot to mention in the last chapter, thanks for sharing your stories about nude art models! I was amazed at how many of you had some experience with that, one way or another. It's really true that real life is stranger than fiction!**


	36. Chapter 36

"I can't believe you actually chose to spend part of your birthday in an activity that involves rented shoes."

Edward glanced accusingly at Bella before kneeling down to tie the shoelaces of the ugly tri-colored leather that now adorned his feet. She giggled from the molded plastic seat next to his and pulled the laces of her own shoes tighter.

"Hey," she protested, tying her right shoe in a neat bow. "Bowling is the only sport I'm even remotely good at. And also the one with the least possibility of me inflicting injury on others."

"Why is that?" he asked with a laugh.

"Because the ball is too heavy for me to accidentally hit anyone with it," she explained. "Watch out for your toes, though."

"Thanks for the warning. But these shoes are so vile, I'm pretty sure they'd repel the ball before it could do any damage."

He stood up and shook out the legs of his jeans one by one, trying to get the denim to cover up the eyesores on his feet. No such luck. He looked sideways at Bella, whose rolled cuffs exposed the rentals to full effect. She still looked adorable. Sexy, even. It was hard not to with jeans so tight they looked glued to her gorgeous ass.

"Girls don't know how good they have it," he said with an exaggerated sigh. "Your feet are so tiny that these things actually look cute on you. On me, they look like clown shoes."

She stood to face him, rolling her eyes, but still grinning ear to ear. "I kind of like your big clown feet," she said, looking down at them, marveling at the difference in size from her own. Her eyes traveled slowly up his body, enjoying the rest of the differences between them.

"They go with your big hands," she added, grabbing his long, warm fingers between hers. "And your big . . ." Her eyes wandered down to the button fly of his faded jeans, then rested on his chest as she finished, ". . . heart."

She smiled sweetly, mischievously up at him, and everything within him began buzzing. Humming. Thrumming. She did this to him every time. Every fucking time. With absolutely no effort at all. Why did it always surprise him? Not that it happened, no; but how acutely, how intensely the feeling engulfed him.

Happiness.

"Well, my, uh, _heart_ just grew three sizes today," he informed her, gripping her hands tightly and pulling her closer.

Her eyebrows shot up as she searched for a witty comeback. But damn him, she couldn't think when he was this close to her, staring down at her with those bedroom eyes beneath their thick fringe of lashes, that cocky smirk tantalizing her with its proximity to her lips. He never played fair.

"So, if you're the Grinch, does that make me Christmas?" she said at last.

His smirk turned into something more genuine. "Yes. I couldn't keep you from coming," he murmured, his lips grazing hers. "I wouldn't want to."

And then he kissed Bella again, leaning into her slightly, swaying with her as she pushed back against him. He'd already lost track of their kisses today. He was afraid he'd never get her out of her dorm room, he was so hungry for her. As soon as he saw her, it hit him full-force that he hadn't gone a week without sex for over two years, which both appalled and aroused him. He wanted her in the worst way, then and there. He wanted to strip her, throw her on the tiny dorm bed and fuck her seven ways 'til Sunday.

He'd managed to get her to the car instead, then covered her with kisses the minute they were strapped into their seatbelts. She returned them with a fervor that almost sent them into the backseat. Only the unsavory thought of Bella's twentieth-birthday sex happening in a U-Dub parking garage kept Edward's dick in his pants and his hands on the steering wheel.

And now, here he was in the middle of a bowling alley on a Tuesday afternoon, feeling his dick get hard again, despite the after-school kids filtering in and taking up lanes around them. To be fair, this bowling alley was one of those black-lit, neon strobe light affairs, affording a club-like atmosphere that was far removed from the bowling alleys of yore. The availability of beer didn't help matters.

Edward and Bella's insatiable lips broke apart slightly, sighing a little, their frustrated sounds swallowed in the backbeat of a sound system cranking up some kind of techno music.

"Isn't this kind of distracting for the bowlers?" he wondered aloud.

Her torso gave his a playful shove. "This place isn't for serious bowling. It's for fun." She screwed up her face and studied him for a moment. "You aren't seriously squicked out by the rented shoes, are you?"

He laughed and shook his head. "No. Well, unless I end up with a nasty case of athlete's foot. I just like giving you a hard time."

She smiled in satisfaction. "Good. Otherwise I might think you were a complete pansy-ass."

"Pansy-ass?" Edward repeated, nostrils flaring. "Oh, that's it. I am showing you no mercy today, even if it is your birthday." He hadn't let go of her hands, so he gave them a meaningful squeeze.

"Bring it, Masen," she retorted. "I'm not afraid of you."

"Hmm. We'll see."

"We will," Bella agreed, a tiny thrill racing through her at the wickedness in his eyes. "So . . . I guess we'd better go grab a couple of balls and get started."

"Grabbing a couple of balls is an excellent idea, Miss Swan. Ladies first."

They stared at each other for a moment, taunting. Daring. She finally broke the spell, brushing past him and heading for the bowling ball racks behind the lanes. But on the way, she managed to slip her fingers between his legs and give Junior a good, solid grab.

"Fuck," he hissed to himself, watching her glide away. How the hell would he make it another five or six hours until he was alone with her?

The actual act of bowling did nothing to help matters. After gamely following her to the racks to choose a bowling ball, Edward took a couple of practice shots, then settled in behind the automatic scorer while Bella warmed up. He soon realized he was a goner, watching the backside of her curvy little ass repeatedly wiggle its way down the lane as she endeavored to turn gutter balls into strikes.

He tried to remember the last time he'd been this blatantly horny. During adolescence, surely. It was strangely exhilarating, this hormonally driven high. Maybe it was because there was something else sparking his hormones to life this time. Something much stronger than simple biology or chemistry. Something that went way beyond desire; that tapped into the very core of his existence.

He knew what it was. What to name it. Could he say the words this time, when it counted?

His musings were distracted by a victory shriek. He looked up in time to see Bella whirl around to face him, fists pumping the air, face painted in elation. A quick glance down the lane at pins scattered in every direction proved that she had just bowled her first strike of the evening.

"Did you see that?" she exclaimed as she sauntered back to the scoreboard where Edward sat, whistling and applauding. She did a little "boo-ya" dance in front of him until he laughed and made a grab for her, pulling her onto his lap, arms encircling her. She giggled and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, her eyes locking with his. There was that look again - the one he'd been giving her all afternoon. The one she wasn't sure she'd ever seen before. So stark and naked; so earnest in its demands. Raw hunger. Yearning, maybe. She didn't know what to call it.

She knew what she _wanted_ to call it. What she felt washing over every cell of her body as she swam in the deep sea of his consuming gaze.

And then the sea parted, divided by the blinking and crinkling of his eyes, before settling into more navigable waters.

"Nice throw! You bowled a strike already - impressive. Too bad that was just a practice shot," he remarked, eyes swirling with mischief, tongue clucking in pity.

"No, that was my first turn. Didn't you hear me announce it? We're officially playing now. For real."

She was lying. She'd said no such thing, and Edward knew it. But he wasn't sure she was talking about the game anymore. Neither was she.

"I must not have heard you over the music," he acquiesced. "All right, birthday girl. Your first turn is a strike." He gave her what was meant to be a peck, but turned into a lingering kiss. The noisy music couldn't prevent Bella from hearing the little rumbling sound in his throat when they parted. He gave her an indulgent grin, then reset the electronic scorer so that her strike registered as her first turn.

"Thank you," she whispered, leaning in and pressing her nose to his. This led to a series of tiny butterfly kisses before she tore herself away and said, "Your turn."

She reluctantly scooted off of his lap so he could get up and retrieve his bowling ball, much larger and heavier than the one she'd chosen. She knew he'd mop the floor with her using that thing. She didn't care. She already felt like she was the winner when he gave her that irresistible smirk of his before turning his gorgeous backside to her and lining up the shot.

He managed to pick up a spare, taking down eight of the ten pins before nailing the last two with a throw that narrowly missed hitting the mark. Bella clapped and cheered as Edward returned to the seat next to hers.

"Figures you'd be good at bowling, too," she said in mild exasperation.

"I'm mediocre at bowling. I got lucky with that shot." He frowned at her. "What did you mean by that crack, anyway?"

"Nothing. Just, you know, you're sort of annoyingly perfect sometimes. I always have to search for flaws." She laughed, but Edward couldn't join her.

"I have plenty of flaws. Glaring ones," he argued. A list of his more obvious foibles ran rampant through his head while Bella only smiled and shook her head.

"If that's what you think, then you're too hard on yourself." She reached her hand out to the side of his face, giving his stubbly jaw a gentle stroke before she rose to take her turn.

"Maybe you're too easy on me," he mumbled after her, his words swallowed in the relentless techno-beat shaking the laminate floor beneath his rented shoes. This place really was piss-poor for the sport of bowling, he thought.

His mind strayed to his brief conversation with Rosalie earlier. She hadn't returned his call from the hotel last night until she got to the office this morning. She claimed not to have time to meet with him today, so she set up an appointment for tomorrow instead. Now that he had made the decision to be upfront with her, he hated waiting. Putting him off was probably just another power play of hers, he thought grimly. She was the type who always liked to have the upper hand.

He wasn't even sure what he was going to say to her. He wanted to burst through her office door and shout the proverbial "take this job and shove it," but he knew he couldn't afford to be that reckless. He wished to God he could. He hated the fear that seized him at the idea of throwing away his safety net. Fear made him feel spineless and weak. It made him feel ten years old again, helpless and alone, terrified at the loss of his parents. The woman who had taken that fear away, who had replaced it with warmth and security and love, barely remembered it now. But Edward did. And he'd be damned if he didn't make sure she was as safe and cared for now as she'd made him feel all those years.

Was he foolish to hope that Rosalie would keep him on awhile longer despite his reluctance to sleep with clients? Maybe she could try to set him up on legitimate dates only, with women who were unlikely to want more at the end of the evening. She couldn't force him to do anything illegal, or fire him for his refusal. But she most certainly could phase him out of the schedule until he had no choice but to quit. And then it wouldn't be long before he'd be struggling to pay for his grandmother's continued stay at Tranquility Gardens.

"I know, I suck," came Bella's dejected voice, interrupting his preoccupation once more. "So much for my lucky strike."

He started and snuck a guilty look at the automated scoreboard, which showed him that Bella had thrown a gutter ball this time. The frown he'd been wearing when she headed back to the ball return was a lucky coincidence. He cursed himself under his breath. This was Bella's day - she should have his undivided attention now. He could worry about his meeting with Rosalie tomorrow.

"You don't suck," he assured her, jumping to his feet. "You just need to work on your technique a little. Here, let me help you."

He joined Bella at the ball return. Once she'd retrieved her ball, he positioned her the proper distance behind the foul line. He proceeded to give her the few tips he knew, such as the best way to hold the ball, where to aim, how many steps to take, and when to release the ball. He walked her through it in slow motion, stopping short of actually completing the throw.

Bella tried to listen to his instructions, and coordinate her body the way he showed her. But she was once again distracted by the mere nearness of him - the vibration of that honeyed voice down her spine; the warmth of his body behind hers; the heat of his hands gently guiding her efforts. She couldn't help but compare this to Mike's similar attempts at the dart board last night. Then, she'd been mostly annoyed by his interruption of her concentration. But now, with Edward, she was having trouble concentrating at all. How could he still affect her this way? Still send such tingles and flutters through her body that her brain turned to mush?

"Okay, I got it," she told him, glancing over her shoulder at his encouraging smile as he stepped away. She muttered his instructions to herself as she lined up the shot, willing her concentration, and coordination, to return. "Hold the ball up, in front of my chest. Look down the lane; aim to the right of the middle arrow. Four steps. Left foot first, push the ball out; right foot, bring the ball down; left foot, swing the ball back; right foot, crouch, swing, release."

She watched the ball fly from her fingers and propel itself down the lane, zooming between the two inlaid arrows Edward had suggested she aim for. It curved as it made its way toward the pit, but then veered back between the front pin and its neighbor to the right. She knew before the pins hit the wood that it was a strike.

"Yes!" she shouted in exhilaration as the noisy impact of the ball annihilating the pins rang out over the electronic music. She whirled to face Edward, arms forming a "V" once more. His smile was huge as he slapped his hands to hers, double high fives that turned into more hand-holding and kissing.

"See? You had it in you all along," he told her after his lips finally released hers.

"Yeah, but I never knew what I was doing before. I just threw the ball and hoped for the best. Now I actually have a plan, thanks to you," she said. She squinted up at him a moment, appraising. "You're good at that."

"At what?"

"Teaching me. Bringing out the best in me. Making me believe I can do it."

"Do what?" he asked, his eyebrows knitting. He wondered, as always, if she was referring to the fucked-up situation he'd allowed them both to get into by pursuing her.

"Anything," she answered immediately. "Anything I put my mind to. You make me brave, somehow."

He let out a soft snort. How the hell could he make her feel brave, when he felt like such a fucking coward half the time?

"Bella, you've been brave all along. I had nothing to do with that."

"I don't know," she disagreed. She put her hand on his chest, pressing until she felt the beat of his heart beneath her fingers. She looked up into his doubtful eyes, wondering what it would take to convince him. "Maybe I wouldn't be so brave if you didn't give me a good reason to be."

He smiled at the irony. "Well, you should know all about that."

It was her turn to ask for clarification. "About what?"

"Good reasons. You're the best one I've found."

She still appeared puzzled. "For what?"

_Being brave myself. Letting go. Moving forward. Trying to recapture my lifelong dream. Remembering why I had it in the first place_. The answers tumbled through his brain, too numerous to list here in this noisy, neon bowling alley.

So he simply said, "Being a better man."

He leaned in and gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead, then went to take his turn.

# # # # # # # # # #

Edward peered at the menu, trying in vain to read the small print. He held it closer to the tepid glow of a tiny light sconce affixed at the end of the booth until he could read the descriptions.

"You're sure the food here is good?" he asked Bella. He gave the dimly lit room a skeptical once-over. The furnishings inside the India Café were dated and worn, but at least it looked marginally clean.

"Best Indian food I've ever had," she declared, then added a sheepish disclaimer. "Of course, I haven't eaten in a lot of Indian restaurants. I know the décor is pretty plain in here, but the tikka masala is great. I have it all the time."

"Yeah?" he said warily. "All right. I'll try it."

Bella grinned. "You're not used to slumming it anymore, are you?"

His eyebrows lifted in surprise. "I guess not," he admitted. He'd never thought of himself as spoiled, but he suddenly realized he'd gotten used to the advantages escorting had afforded him. The best restaurants, hotels, clubs, theaters and galleries had become his regular haunts. But when he was in college, dives and dingy bars were his stomping grounds. He assumed the fact that he still shopped in thrift stores and ate his breakfast at the diner had kept him more grounded. Christ. When did he become such a snob?

"Welcome back to university life," Bella teased. "I'm always on the lookout for a bargain."

"I remember it well," he said. "I don't care about the atmosphere, as long as the food is good. But today is your birthday - you don't have to cut corners. I'm paying. We can go anywhere, do anything you want tonight."

"Edward, you're escorting to be able to afford your grandmother's medical care, which happens to be insanely expensive. You can't comp tonight with your agency, can you?"

He shook his head slightly. He supposed he could have lied to Rosalie and claimed tonight's date was a paid one, but she preferred bookings to go through her rather than her employees. He didn't need to add another misstep to the laundry list she'd probably compiled.

"All right, then," Bella concluded. "I don't need you to waste a lot of money on me. We can have a good time without it."

"It wouldn't be a waste. You could never be a waste of anything."

She was swallowed up in that look again, his eyes dark and devouring in the ambient glow of their tiny booth. She felt the heat of it spread between her thighs, and she shifted slightly in her seat, like that might extinguish the burning. The sexy grin that stole over his lips did nothing to help matters.

"You're right though," he said. "We can have a very good time without spending a dime."

She remembered one of the first things he ever said to her, and repeated it back to him now. "You rhymed."

"Your rhyming prowess must be rubbing off on me, Swan-I-am," he answered. "Which reminds me, when are you going to let me read more of your poems? Or see your artwork?"

"I don't know. When are you going to play the piano again for me?" she countered.

"Whenever you like," he answered evenly. "The opportunity hasn't presented itself lately."

"But if it did, would you take it?" Her eyes were sparkling now, reminding him of their first dinner together, when she was so eager to hear him perform.

"Do you know something I don't?" he asked, quirking a suspicious brow at her.

"Of course not," she said, grinning impishly. She definitely had something up her sleeve.

"Bella," Edward said, using his smoothest, most persuasive tone. "What do you have planned after dinner?"

"It's a surprise," was her cryptic reply.

"I told you before, the birthday girl is the one who's supposed to be getting the surprises, not giving them."

"But surprising you is one of the things I want for my birthday. You wouldn't want to deny me my birthday wish, would you?"

"Heaven forbid. Your wish is my command. At least for tonight," he added with a grin.

"I'll remember that," she replied, returning his smirk. But her smile faded quickly as another thought hit her. "So, you _did_ throw that second bowling set, didn't you?"

"No. No way," he denied. "Do you really think I'd let you win just because it's your birthday?"

He'd barely gotten the words out before she blurted an emphatic, "Yes."

He tried to stifle his grin. "You're wrong. I told you I was showing you no mercy tonight. You won fair and square."

"Thanks to your pointers," she reminded him. "And only by six points - a whopping 123 to 117. Not exactly something to brag about."

"So bowling isn't our forte," he said, laughing along with her. "I can think of a couple of other areas where we excel."

A few of those areas popped into Bella's head, and her cheeks warmed accordingly. She wondered if he could see the flush on her face in the dusky light. She also wondered when he would stop having this effect on her, especially when he'd asked her from the start to let go of her inhibitions. _There's no room for self-consciousness here. . . _

He stared across the table, caught up in that bashful yet knowing grin of hers that was still his undoing. He couldn't wait to get her alone so he could erase that blush from her pretty cheeks and take her to the next level, far beyond self-consciousness. That place where she held nothing back, and neither did he. That place of transcendence, of pure connection. Raw emotion. Naked truth.

Bella wondered if she should be frightened of that look in his eyes. It bordered on a sort of desperation she'd never seen in him before. Could she possibly fill a need that acute? Was she up to the task?

Edward frowned slightly at Bella's expression. Her smile had faded, and her eyes had taken on that overwhelmed look they'd had the night they met. Why? The two of them had come so far since then, so fast. Maybe too fast. She had turned his world upside down and made him completely rethink his life in less than one month's time. He could only imagine what he'd done to hers.

The arrival of their waiter diffused the intensity of the moment. Bella ordered the paneer tikka masala; Edward chose the chicken. He kept the conversation light after the waiter left. He asked her about her weekend with her father, and she showed him her new phone.

"We can record HD videos on that thing, you know," he informed her with a devilish grin.

"Pervert," she replied, giving him a mild kick under the table.

"Why, Miss Swan. What kind of videos did you have in mind?" he protested in mock innocence. "I was only thinking of recording this mystery place you're taking me to, which may or may not involve a piano."

She gave him that smug grin again. "You're right, this phone could come in handy there."

Edward let out a sigh of frustration. "You do realize you're going to have to tell me where we're going eventually, since I'm driving."

"I know. But I'm prolonging the anticipation as long as possible."

Bella looked entirely too pleased with herself. Edward wasn't a fan of delayed gratification, for the most part. But he did derive a perverse sort of pleasure in seeing her lord her secret over him, like a matador waving a red flag in front of a snorting bull. He could be patient if he had to be.

He flashed her his own self-satisfied smile. He had the feeling she'd be waving the white flag of surrender before the night was through.

# # # # # # # # # #

_"You've ruined me now_  
><em>Though I liked it, now I'm ruined<em>  
><em>I had no choice<em>  
><em>When I heard your voice. . ."<em>

The singer's words echoed in Bella's ears. She glanced up at Edward to find him already looking at her. His expression said it all. The song hit home for them both.

He reached for her hand; how many times had he done that this evening? But he needed to be touching her, more now than ever. They'd pulled their chairs close together at the tiny, round table to the right of the stage, so their knees were in constant contact. Now, their clasped hands rested in the narrow space between their thighs. Bella felt her blood throbbing in time with his, in time with the music. It all melded together in a mixture of drowsy, heady lust.

The minute Edward realized where Bella's directions were taking them after they'd driven away from the restaurant, he felt like it was his birthday instead of hers. He knew the Highway 99 Blues Club well, but not as well as he would have liked. It was a rare occasion when a Renaissance client wanted to be entertained at a laid-back, Southern-style juke joint like this one. But Bella was clearly at home here, just like she'd been at the understated India Café. Her face glowed brightly in the light of the solitary candle adorning their table. She looked happy.

Edward was elated. It had been too long since he'd enjoyed live music like this. The Blue Catz were a local band, and the average age of the musicians looked to be about thirty. They concentrated mostly on covers of more modern blues rock songs as well as old standards, but occasionally they would throw in an original composition. The rhythm section was solid, if not flashy. The guitarist was a bit more impressive, displaying solid rhythm chops and a rich, fluid tone in his solos. He sang the rock-infused songs, while the female keyboard player took on the more laid-back, jazzy numbers. She was adequate at the piano, but vocals were where she truly shone. Her smoky, mellow timbre vibrated in the air around them, doing admirable justice to the Norah Jones song the band was now covering.

Bella found herself watching Edward as much as the band. She liked observing him as he studied the musicians, his eyes sharp and hawk-like, probably picking apart every bar and measure of the music they played. But he seemed to like what he heard, regardless of the musical training that presumably put him leaps and bounds beyond the abilities of the amateurs onstage. In fact, she'd never seen him so relaxed. He seemed to be in his element here, his head nodding and leg occasionally pumping in time with the music.

She was certain she'd never seen him smile so much. His mouth was stretched in a permanent grin, the corners dimpling, making him look like a kid. Then he would look at her and the smile would grow, every single time. She loved that she could make him smile like that. It made her feel like he reserved it just for her; like she was its sole master. She knew that smile was the best gift he would give her this evening.

_"You've ruined me now_  
><em>But I liked it, but I'm ruined<em>  
><em>Do you have a plan?<em>  
><em>'Cause I'm in your hands. . ."<em>

As the final verse of the song reverberated through the air, Edward's smile faded slightly. He had a plan, but it was flimsy, resting solely on the results of the contest that would happen in less than six weeks. He was impatient to move forward, yet worried that a month wasn't nearly enough rehearsal time. Charlotte was more than generous with her Steinway, but she was no music coach. He had no mentor to guide him as he practiced. He tried to imagine what his professors at Juilliard would have told him; how they would have critiqued his performance. For the most part, Edward knew where he needed work. But it still would've been nice to have done this the right way, entering the contest back in May and working with a coach to hone his piece to competitive perfection. He was afraid he was hanging all his hopes on an event that might end in crushing disappointment.

Bella saw his mood shift at the conclusion of the song. She could guess what he was thinking. He'd worried all along that his situation wasn't fair to her; to either of them. And though he'd made it sound like he had a plan of some kind, he had yet to give her any details. She wished he could be more open with her. She thought they'd made progress the night he took her to his house and bared his soul about his past. But since then, they'd had scant quality time together, and no conversations about anything more meaningful than bowling technique.

She wanted to say something now; to ask him where his mind had wandered. But the music started again, loud and up-tempo, provoking whistles and cheers from the crowd at what was apparently a familiar tune. Edward seemed to know it, too, his face relaxing once more as he got caught up in the melody. He gave her that irresistible smile again and squeezed her hand. Bella couldn't begrudge him this moment. It wasn't often that he seemed this content.

As soon as the familiar bars of "Cold Shot" barreled through the room, Edward felt relief wash over him. He didn't want to think about his shortcomings now - not tonight. Tonight was about Bella's happiness, right now, in this moment. So he lost himself in the bluesy stomp of the bass and the dirty squeal of the guitar, and hoped that she could feel the music the way he did, lifting his soul out of the murk, carrying it to a better place.

He smiled down at her as he realized she affected him the same way. She was music to him.

He wanted to be that to her, at least for tonight.

The band ended its first set, promising to be back in twenty minutes or so. Edward and Bella decided to find the restrooms, weaving around candle-lit tables, past walls jammed with posters of blues legends, to the back of the club. A predictable line had already formed to the ladies' room. Bella was still waiting her turn outside the door by the time Edward was done, so he told her he'd meet her back at the table after he ordered them a couple of drinks from the bar.

As he waited for the server to return with his Heinekens, the Blue Catz guitarist squeezed in next to him at the bar and ordered the same. Edward took the opportunity to compliment his skills, which quickly turned into a session of musical shop talk. They managed to cover the topics of favorite instruments, amps, and playing techniques in about ten minutes' time. And then, with a laugh, they finally exchanged names.

The guitar player's name was Steve, which prompted a chuckle over the Stevie Ray Vaughn covers the band was so fond of. The arrival of their beers interrupted their conversation, so Edward glanced back to see if Bella had returned yet. The table was still empty. Suddenly an idea popped into his head - an idea that could take this evening to a whole different level, if he could manage to pull it off.

He stopped Steve before he could disappear backstage with his drinks. Now that he was on a first-name basis with the guy, he figured it couldn't hurt to ask him for a little favor. . .

# # # # # # # # # #

Back in the ladies' room, Bella finally scored sixty seconds in a stall to hurriedly do her business so the next girl could get her turn. She stopped at the nearest sink to wash her hands and give herself a once-over in the mirror. It hadn't rained yet this evening, so her hair was still intact, as was her mascara. Her lips were a bit dry, though, so she began ransacking her small bag for a tube of lip gloss. She'd left most of her belongings in her backpack, which was locked in the trunk of Edward's car.

When she finally came up with the gloss and turned her attention back to the mirror, she started in surprise at who was standing next to her. She was pretty sure it was the blonde from the band who'd been singing so beautifully for the past forty-five minutes. The woman finished washing her hands and glanced in the mirror, only to find Bella gaping openly at her. She laughed a little and gave her a smile, which finally broke Bella out of her stupor.

"I'm sorry I was staring," she blurted, embarrassed. "It's just, you were really good out there. I love your voice. That last song . . . That was great."

"'You Ruined Me?'" the woman replied. "That is a great song. I wish I'd written it," she added with a laugh.

Bella smiled, her bravery growing. She'd dreamed of having a chance like this, so she wasn't about to blow it now.

"Your band is great. My boyfriend is really enjoying your show." There! She'd finally said it. _My boyfriend._ A strange thrill shot through her at the words. "He's a musician, too, so this is really fun for him."

"Oh yeah? What does he play?" the woman said. Bella suspected the blonde was only asking to be polite, but she refused to let that stop her.

"He plays the piano, like you. He's so good. Really excellent, actually. He went to Juilliard."

"Really!" the woman exclaimed. "I'm sure he's unimpressed by my efforts, then." She let out a chuckle and reached around Bella to the paper towel dispenser. Bella continued, undaunted.

"Oh, no. He's not like that. He loves all kinds of music, especially blues. I can tell he likes you guys. He's probably feeling a little jealous, though. He never gets to play anymore."

"Oh? Why's that?" The woman threw her paper towel in the waste can, and Bella knew she had better talk fast before she left the bathroom.

"It's a long story. But he's incredible, honestly. He can improvise like you wouldn't believe. He just plays by ear - it's amazing."

The singer smiled and began edging toward the door. Bella dodged out of the way of the other girls coming to the sinks, then began talking even faster.

"So, I was wondering, do you ever let musicians sit in? Like, just for one song? Because I'll bet he would love that, if he could perform onstage for a few minutes. It would mean the world to him. And to me."

"Well, I don't know," the woman hedged, eying the door impatiently. "We sometimes have friends sit in, but usually not strangers from the audience."

"I promise you won't be sorry," Bella implored. She decided to go for broke. "Please? It would be the best birthday present ever."

The singer seemed to relent a little. "You didn't tell me it was his birthday."

"It's not," Bella said quietly. "It's mine."

The blonde's expression softened. "Well, Happy Birthday, . . . ?" she trailed off, waiting.

"Bella. My name's Bella."

"Nice to meet you, Bella. I'm Jane." She held out her hand, and Bella gratefully shook it. "Maybe we can work something out."

# # # # # # # # # #

Edward and Bella's smug grins were a matched set as they headed back to their table. But smugness soon turned to surprise when they each saw the other approaching at the same time.

"Were you in the bathroom this whole time?" Edward asked, trying to divert attention from his late return.

"Yeah, but you saw that line," she covered quickly. "It was crazy. I was sure you'd get back here long before I did."

Edward quickly motioned back to the packed bar. "I had to wait in line for drinks, too," he explained. "Popular place, huh?"

"Yeah, it is," she agreed.

Edward sat their beers on the table, then pulled out Bella's chair for her. She smiled up at him as she sat down, shaking her head a little, like it was silly for him to do that. But his father had always been big on manners. He tried to honor his parents in any small way that he could. Besides, Bella deserved to be treated well. He couldn't wait to spring his surprise on her.

"So, I picked a good place to spend my birthday, huh?" she remarked, raising her beer as Edward sat close beside her.

"The best," he quickly agreed, lifting his own bottle to hers in agreement. "But I hope you didn't pick a blues bar just for me."

"Well, I kind of did," she admitted before joining him in a sip of beer. "But I told you, I like all kinds of music. I also like seeing you having a good time. That makes it a good time for me."

He stared at her, wondering if he'd ever feel like he deserved her. "That works both ways, you know. I just want you to be happy. I'm going to figure out a way to make that happen. I promise."

She nodded, not arguing with him. It would do no good to tell him he already made her happy - he wouldn't believe it. Not yet. But maybe one day, he'd get it.

The sound of instruments being tuned met their ears. The band had returned to the stage for their second set, which brought secret smiles to both of their faces. They turned their attention to the stage and waited.

Their anticipation grew with each song. They sat through several blues classics, each one a somebody-done-somebody-wrong lament. Bella's stomach was in knots. What if Edward refused the band's offer to come on stage? He wouldn't be that modest, would he? She wanted nothing more than to see him in his element, and to hear him play for her once more. Surely he'd welcome the opportunity, wouldn't he?

She soon got her answer. After Jane and Steve finished singing a sultry rendition of "The Thrill is Gone," Jane leaned into her microphone and addressed the audience.

"All right, I think it's time to pick things up a little bit," she said with a smile. "I've been informed that there's a very accomplished pianist here in the audience tonight. I'm thinking I could use a little help in that department with the next song."

Bella's heart pounded against her ribcage. She bit her lip, glancing cautiously up at Edward.

Jane put her hand over her eyes to shield them from the lights, scanning the room until she found Bella and her date. "Edward Masen, how would you like to come join us for a little 'Pride and Joy?'"

Edward's eyebrows skyrocketed as the bar crowd applauded in encouragement. Steve had readily agreed to his request at the bar, but Jane's invitation to sit in on another Vaughn cover threw him. He certainly hadn't expected that. So the surprise on his face that Bella had been waiting for was genuine.

The suspicion, however, was missing. Edward looked at her, shrugging and shaking his head as though he didn't know how he'd been singled out; but he didn't seem to assume she was behind it. Odd, that.

She dismissed the thought when a rather embarrassed but agreeable Edward pushed his chair back and headed stage right, climbing the couple of steps to reach Jane's piano. She made a show of waving him onto the bench while she walked over to a nearby mike stand instead.

Edward took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together over the keys. This was it - his first time in front of an audience in over two years. He was surprised at how nervous he was, but he was glad at the same time. He needed this. Maybe it would take the edge off, if only slightly, when he sat down to perform at the Seattle Piano Competition. He shook his hands out, then put them to the keyboards and let them fly. They took off in a series of chords and runs that drew some hoots and hollers from both the band and the audience. He paused and waited for the band to begin, so he would know what key to play in.

Then he stopped thinking, and let instinct take over.

That's how it always was when he played by ear. He could never explain how he did it - he just did. He knew the song; it was an old favorite of his. He followed along easily with the appropriate honky-tonk embellishments. When Steve cued him to take a solo, he let his fingers find their own path, running up and down the keyboard seemingly of their own volition, creating a surprising symbiosis with the band that seemed to spur them both on. He and Steve ended up trading licks, playing off each other, in a kind of duel that had the crowd shouting its appreciation.

Edward barely heard them. He was no longer in the room, in the physical sense. He felt like he'd left his body and taken off to some realm where there was only the sonic creation around him, and his part in it. He could never explain that feeling to anyone else. He doubted he could even describe it to Bella. It was freedom, it was escape, it was solace.

It was home.

Bella would need no explanation. She saw the transformation on his face. Felt it in his rigid posture, his body bristling with energy. She heard it reverberate all around her, thrilling her, transporting her to a higher ground. He transfixed her, exactly like the first time. He bared his soul in a way that only music could seem to accomplish. And she was every bit as amazed now as she was then. Maybe more so.

She had a whole audience on her side this time, reinforcing her admiration. The crowd erupted in howls of approval when the song careened from a wild crescendo to a dramatically drawn-out close. When the music finally stopped, Edward looked dazed and disoriented, like someone had just awoken him from a dream. Bella wanted to shout up to him, "It's real. It's your moment. Take it in. You deserve it." Instead, she simply clapped and hollered like mad along with everyone else, and hoped against hope that the band might let him play some more.

But nothing could have prepared her for what happened next.

Edward soaked up the applause in stunned silence. He forgot how good this kind of validation felt. How exhilarating it was to surrender to the music; to let it wash over him, cleanse him, leave him renewed in its wake. Was there anything as good as this feeling?

He twisted on the bench to address the crowd, to acknowledge their praise with a modest bow of his head. His gaze fell immediately on Bella, riveted by that porcelain doll face with the huge, chocolate eyes. Was she crying? He couldn't tell for sure. But he knew he had the answer to his question. There was definitely another feeling as good as the one music gave him, and he was looking at the source right now.

"Thanks, everyone. You all are amazing," he said into the mike that stretched over the top of the piano. "And huge thanks to the Blue Catz for letting me come up here and defile their keyboards for a little bit," he added with a grin. "But I have to save a very special thanks for the girl who got me here in the first place."

He turned his eyes back to Bella's; let that warm chocolate melt all around him. "You're the one who teaches me, every time I'm with you. You bring out the best in me. You make me believe I can do it." He paused, wrestling with the emotion that threatened to strangle his vocal chords. He couldn't afford to lose it now. "Happy Birthday, Bella."

He finally tore his gaze from hers, his eyes sweeping the audience as he invited them to join him in singing "Happy Birthday" to her. But when he began to play, everyone fell silent instead. He launched into a poignant, slower version of the old birthday standard, embellishing each verse with a gorgeous piano flourish before moving on to the next. He sang the words in a quiet, almost mournful tenor that shocked Bella more than anyone else in the room. She never knew he could sing. He sang almost as beautifully as he played. And the fact that he was opening up to her like this, in front of a room full of people, was nearly more than she could take.

The tears she'd been holding back refused to be contained any longer. They rolled down her cheeks in two hot streams, straight down to her chin. No one had ever done anything like this for her before - made such a grand gesture, yet such an intimate one. Because that was the only word to describe the way Edward sang to her, like she was the only one in the room. She saw, heard, felt only him in return. And when he smiled at her at the end of the song, she laughed through her tears, because the happiness could not be contained, either.

He rose from the bench, blinking back his own tears after seeing hers. He guessed he didn't need to wonder if she liked it, at any rate. When he'd asked Steve if he could steal a moment onstage to sing to her, he had no idea it would end like this. He had imagined performing a fun, even silly "Happy Birthday to you" that would get the crowd involved and make Bella laugh. But like always, his heart had other plans. It decided to bleed all over the stage in quite the show of unabashed earnestness. But Bella had done that to him from the start, hadn't she? Dispensed with the niceties and gone straight for the jugular. She still held the throbbing vessel in her hands, and it sang for her tonight.

Edward collected himself and walked out from behind the piano, shaking the hands of the approaching band members and thanking them once more for letting him join them. He saved Jane for last.

"I was really surprised when you asked me to join you on that Stevie Ray song," he told her. "That was a blast. Really above and beyond the birthday song request. So, thanks for that. Thanks a lot."

"Don't thank me," she said with a smile. "Your girlfriend is the one who begged me to bring you onstage. She was right about you, though. You have quite a gift. Wish I could play by ear like that."

"Thanks," he mumbled, stunned, as she walked away. He turned and walked to the edge of the stage near Bella, just in time to see her wipe her palms quickly across her tear-streaked face. She looked up at him, her eye make-up smudged, cheeks blotchy, bottom lip caught under her front teeth in that adorable habit of hers.

And in that moment, Edward knew he would never love anyone the way he loved Bella Swan.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, I know. All that and still no sex! But it's coming very soon. Oh yes. It's coming. ;)<strong>

**I took a few liberties in this chapter, as follows:**

**1. I haven't bowled in ages, but I'm guessing that if you're using an automated scorer, there's not really a way to go back and include a pre-game practice shot in your score. So just pretend there is, mmkay?**

**2. The Highway 99 Blues Club is a real place, but the band I had playing there isn't. I've never been to that club, but it had the look I wanted when I checked out their website. Just pretend that A) they're open on Tuesdays (Bella's birthday), and B) they admit minors (like Bella). Neither is actually true.**

**If you wanna check out my inspiration for Edward's piano solo extravaganza, watch the live Stevie Ray Vaughn performance of "Pride and Joy" at the 1985 Montreux Jazz Festival on Youtube. Effing amazing. I don't even know who Stevie's keyboardist was - gotta find out. And the dude plays with flat fingers, which is terrible form, yet he still sounds incredible. (Pardon me while I geek out a little on the music. :) I was also listening to live versions the other songs mentioned in this chapter: "Cold Shot"(Live in Texas) by Stevie Ray, "You've Ruined Me" (Encienne Belgium 2010) by Norah Jones and "The Thrill is Gone" (Montreux Jazz Festival 1993) by B.B. King. Rhythm and blues always sounds better live, IMO.**

**Thanks for all the great feedback as always, everyone! When I posted two chapters at once last time, I was really good at answering the first batch of reviews, and not so good at answering the second. I'm sorry if I missed you. Trust that I read and appreciated every one regardless. **

**Many thanks to Cared and Her Maj for pre-reading parts of this chapter. You know how much I value your opinions and your mad proofreading skillz. If there are any mistakes at the end, it's because I just posted the chapter before they got to read the last few pages. I'm impatient like that. **


	37. Chapter 37

Bella frowned out the window as Edward slowed the Volvo on Alaskan Way, a mere five blocks from the club. She had hoped he would be taking her to his house in Magnolia. But as he flicked on the turn signal, she realized they weren't leaving the heart of downtown Seattle at all.

"Where are we going?" she asked. She thought that after Highway 99, they would call it a night. Surely he wanted to be alone with her. He'd been eying her more hungrily as the night went on - she wasn't imagining that. She was looking at him the same way, matching his intensity. The heavy, sensual mood of the club still swirled under her skin, like an undercurrent stirring the heart of an otherwise placid pool. And after Edward sang to her the way he did, the desire to be close to him had burgeoned into an aching need. She was desperate to be alone with him.

She gazed over at his profile, its hues shifting through the full spectrum of the color wheel as the multi-colored city lights illuminated his skin. She kept staring until he felt the burn of her eyes and glanced her way. His eyes burned back, the flames easy to read. His lips pursed into the faintest of smirks before he shifted his attention back to the road before him.

"It's my turn to surprise you," he said at last. "Although I'm surprised myself that you haven't figured it out by now."

She frowned again, looking at her surroundings. She didn't know the city that well. But when he made a left onto Madison, she almost slapped her palm to her forehead as the realization hit her. She should have known. He was taking her back to the place they met a seeming lifetime, yet only a few weeks, ago.

They made another turn onto First Avenue, and Hotel 1000 loomed before them. Her stomach lurched nervously in recollection of the sheer terror she'd felt that first night, pulling her crappy old truck into the drive while the valet tried not to snicker. Now, of course, the valet had nothing but respect for "Mr. Cullen's" racy black convertible as he took the wheel and drove it away. But the reason she'd been so nervous before was still the same reason she was nervous now.

She couldn't shake the feeling that something life-changing was about to happen.

Her palm was sweaty when Edward pressed it to the dry warmth of his own, then linked his fingers between hers. His smile was just as warm, but his eyes were something else - something more. They sparkled at her under the royal blue neon of the entryway as they approached the hotel. Good God, he was sexy. That was the only word she could come up with to describe him sometimes. Everything about him smoldered and beguiled, even when he was wearing a plain old plaid shirt and jeans. The vision of his suit and tie flashed through her mind, as vivid and shockingly gorgeous as the real thing had been when she first laid eyes on him.

She was a little overwhelmed, schlepping along beside him in her own faded jeans, Converse and denim jacket. She was as dressed down as he was, yet felt more grungy somehow. She was a little embarrassed entering the elegant Madison Tower like this, backpack slung over one shoulder like a hobo.

Edward didn't seem to care how they were dressed. The night concierge still treated him like hotel royalty, nodding and addressing him formally.

"Mr. Cullen, how good to see you again," the middle-aged gentleman greeted him with a deferential nod. "It's been too long since we've had the pleasure of having you as a guest."

Edward nodded and smiled in return. "Good to see you, too, Marcus," he replied in passing. He didn't stop at the front desk, but guided Bella straight to the elevators instead.

"Don't we have to sign in?" she asked him.

"No. I checked in this afternoon."

He was grinning like the Cheshire cat as the elevator doors opened with a muted ding. A couple of passengers exited before Edward and Bella took their place.

"So you had this planned all along," she said as the doors closed with a swish behind them.

He nodded, grabbing her other hand and pulling her to him. "Do you remember the last time we were in this elevator together?" he murmured.

She bit her lip at the memory of desperate kisses; groping hands. "I was afraid I wouldn't see you again."

"Me too," he whispered. "Even though we both put a little insurance policy in place to make sure that wouldn't happen."

"That we did. And it worked."

"Even if it hadn't, I think we would have found another way," he said, leaning down, closing the distance between them. He was about to re-enact their first elevator encounter when the contraption slowed to a halt, its doors parting to let more passengers on. Edward stepped back from Bella with a frustrated sigh, letting go of only one of her hands. The group that had joined them was apparently headed for the same floor they were.

They all dispatched at once when the doors finally reopened, but thankfully soon parted ways. Edward led Bella down the hallway toward his favorite room, the one he'd always used, the Grand Luxe Suite. The room that now held some of his most cherished memories - ones he'd refused to tarnish by bringing anyone else here after her.

Bella's heart was pounding and she wasn't sure why. She wanted to be alone with Edward more than anything, so why was she so nervous?

He dropped her hand in order to rifle through his billfold and find the key card. Once the door was unlocked, he held it open and smiled down at Bella, encouraging her to go ahead. He was surprised to see her balk. She stood stock-still, staring at the floor, just like she'd done that first night.

His brows knitted. What was the problem? He went on into the room and flipped the nearest light switch, then turned to take her hand and help her inside, like he'd done before. Her face relaxed a little as she stepped into the room, finally flashing him a small smile.

"What's wrong?" he asked her bluntly. "Don't you want to be here with me?"

"What? Yeah, of course," she assured him. "More than anything."

"Then what's going on? You're looking a little like a deer in the headlights, same as you did the night we met. It feels like we're starting all over here."

She let out a shaky breath. "It kind of feels that way to me, for some reason," she admitted. "Maybe it's this place. It reminds me how crazy I felt coming here. Hiring you in the first place." She paused, letting out a sigh. "I guess I was kind of hoping you'd take me to your house again."

"Oh." Edward was thrown a little by her admission. Apparently her memories of the night they spent here weren't as fond as his were. He tried to read her face for signs of disappointment as she shrugged out of her backpack and jean jacket. He quickly grabbed them and set them down with his own bag on a nearby desk, then turned back to face her.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I didn't take you home tonight because Alice is there, and I wanted to be alone with you. I guess I wanted to try to recreate the connection we made that night, here, in this suite. You made this place special for me." He gave the room a fond once-over. "I kind of miss it."

"Miss it?" she echoed, not understanding. "I thought you came here all the time. Isn't this your go-to spot for your dates?" She couldn't stop a little acid from seeping into that last word.

"It was," he corrected her. He let out a relieved sigh. Now he got it. He reached out and placed his hands firmly on her shoulders, his thumbs gently stroking her neck. "Bella, I think of this as _our_ place now. I haven't brought anyone else here since the night we met."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "So that's what the concierge meant," she said, remembering his comment to Edward that it had been too long.

"Right. I haven't been here in almost a month. I've been avoiding hotels in general, as much as possible. I don't want to be with anyone else but you." He drew her closer, his face dropping toward hers. Her eyes were cautiously hopeful, seeking something he wanted desperately to give her. "I haven't been with anyone since the last time we were together."

Her eyes grew rounder. "But . . . that was over a week ago," she stammered. "Haven't you been working since then?"

"Working, yes. Working overtime, no. I don't think I can anymore. I don't want to."

She stared at him blankly, afraid to absorb what he was saying. "But how are you getting out of it? I know what I hired you for. I'm not so stupid as to think it isn't the same reason tons of other women are hiring you."

"Well, you're right - some of them have a specific objective in mind," he agreed. "I haven't quite been fulfilling some of their expectations this past week."

Bella's elation was dampened slightly by worry for him. "But won't you get in trouble with your agency?"

"Probably." Edward's fingers crept up her neck, into the silky hair growing at its nape. He wanted to lose himself in the warmth of her and forget about everything else. "I'm meeting with Rosalie tomorrow. I'll find out then what she thinks of my latest client reviews."

"Do you think she'll fire you?" Bella felt a little guilty that she was rather enamored of the idea.

"I don't know. I doubt she wants to give me the severance pay," he said with a sardonic chuckle. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to just walk into her office and give my notice on the spot. If I can hold out for just a few more weeks, I'm hoping I can do exactly that. I just hate asking for your patience in the meantime."

Bella looked up into those pleading eyes, midnight blue in the lamplight, and she felt like she would agree to most anything for him. That kind of surrender was what should have made her afraid. But instead, her anxiety was gone, replaced by the same sureness she felt right after he took her virginity and gave her his vulnerability in return. Was she crazy to trust him? Maybe. Maybe she was just plain crazy, doing the things she'd done this past month. But when she searched his eyes, she found a strange sort of sanity she knew she'd never find with anyone else.

"I just wish you'd tell me what was happening in a few weeks that might change things," she said at last.

He smiled down at her, and he was tempted. So tempted to let her root for him, let her get caught up in high hopes that might come crashing down on them both like a lead balloon.

"I don't want to jinx it," he finally told her. "Let's just say I have an opportunity to get back into music, and I'm hoping it might lead to some job offers. But until that happens, I don't want to make you any promises I can't keep. I know I sound like a broken record, and a fucking cowardly one, at that. I just don't want to disappoint you."

"You could never disappoint me. Not as long as you're trying to find a way to do something you love. And you're not a coward," she insisted. "It's got to be hard to leave behind a job that gives you the kind of security being an escort does. And I have no right to ask that of you, anyway. I don't want to be a hypocrite. I hired you for sex. This whole thing, whatever we have, started as sex."

She stopped and took a deep breath. "I guess maybe that's the one thing I'm afraid of - that this could happen again for you, as long a you're still in this line of work. That you'll find someone else. Connect with someone else the way you did me."

"Impossible," was his immediate response. His grip tightened gently on her skull beneath his fingers. He wondered how to make her understand how ludicrous that idea was to him. "Bella. I was an escort for over two years and it never happened. I never once experienced anything like our first night together. I know I'll never find that with anyone else. We were never just about sex. You have to know that."

She wrapped her hands around his forearms, stroking the light brown hair beneath her fingers. She nodded up at him, believing. Basking in the truth.

"You woke me up," he continued. "Made me stop being complacent. Made me want more for myself again. And for you, too. I want to give you more."

"You already do," she protested feebly.

"It's not enough," he shot back. Then he paused for a moment, realizing he was letting his shortcomings take center stage again, when Bella was the star of this show.

"But, I do have a little something to give you in the meantime," he said, letting a more light-hearted grin spread over his face. He leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss, careful not to linger too long, or he knew he'd never make it any further into the hotel suite before ravishing her. "Come with me, birthday girl."

He slid one hand down to her shoulder, turning her toward the dining room and pushing her in that direction while he followed close behind. When they reached the entry, he left her to flip the nearby light switch, illuminating the modern-style chandelier suspended over the table. Bella gasped at the sight before her. Multi-colored streamers were strung from the light fixture to the four corners of the room, while every inch of space between sported dozens of helium-filled balloons clinging to the ceiling. Each was tied with a long curly-cue ribbon so that she could grab any of them and pull them down at will.

The table below was covered as well, loaded with more regular air-filled balloons, ribbons, streamers and confetti, creating a chaotic rainbow that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. It was crazy and colorful and over the top, like a kids' birthday party on crack. But the fact that he did all of this for her made her throat constrict and her eyes well up, just like his birthday serenade had earlier.

"Edward . . . I . . ." She didn't know what to say. She knew she was going to cry if she tried to speak.

He looked at her stricken face and began to suspect he'd made a colossal blunder. "I know. It's overkill, right? Looks like a clown exploded in here," he said, cringing.

She burst into laughter at that, which made the tears spill over. "Yeah, kind of," she agreed. She walked over and batted at one of the myriad balloons lolling on the table. "I love it. It's perfect. Next to the song you sang to me, this is the best thing anyone's ever done for me."

Edward's shoulders slumped in relief. "Yeah? So those are tears of joy, not disgust?"

"Definitely," she said, giggling and wiping her cheeks quickly. "Thank you." She attacked him in a bear hug, and his arms were only too willing to envelop her. He gave her a kiss on the forehead, knowing that anything more would derail him.

"Don't thank me yet. You still have to open your presents," he instructed, nudging her back toward the table.

"There are presents hiding under here?" she joked, batting more balloons out of the way. Sure enough, she uncovered two packages buried beneath the confetti mountain. They resembled Alice's gifts - one larger, rectangular, flat package, and a much smaller counterpart. Their wrapping paper boasted an artsy graphic that was as colorful as the rest of the room.

"Open the big one first," Edward ordered.

Bella raised an eyebrow at him. "Bossy much?"

He let out a laugh. "All right, open the small one. Whatever your heart desires."

She grinned at him, then picked up the larger of the gifts and began to carefully peel back the tape at one end. The paper was creased in several spots and folded unevenly, like the person wrapping it had made a few unsuccessful tries before getting it right.

"I love that you did this yourself," she said softly.

"Is it that obvious?"

She only smiled and slid her finger down the center of the gift, gently pulling the tape free of the paper.

"Christ. You're one of those careful un-wrappers. I figured you'd be the type to rip the paper into shreds to get to what's inside."

"And I figured you'd be into subdued, tasteful birthday décor," she retorted as she slowly pulled the gift wrap apart.

They exchanged grins. "Well, I guess we know we can still surprise each other," he remarked.

Bella nodded, turning her attention back to her gift as she tossed the wrapping paper on the table. Subdued and tasteful definitely described the book she was now holding in her hands. The hardback cover was sheathed in deep crimson parchment-style paper with delicate gold filigree accents framing the front and back. The color scheme reminded her a little of the comforter on Edward's bed, which made her smile. She opened the book to find a thick sheaf of cream-colored pages, blank save for the fine burgundy rule that stretched across them.

"When I found that poem of yours written on notebook paper, I figured you must like to write the old-fashioned way sometimes, by hand," Edward explained, examining Bella's face for evidence of her like or dislike. "I thought you should have a nicer place to write. You can use it for your poems, or as a diary . . . whatever you like."

"It's beautiful," she told him. "Too beautiful to ruin with my scribbles."

"That book will be lucky to have your scribbles," he contradicted. "I just hope you'll let me read them some time."

"Okay. Maybe," she hedged, wondering what she would ever write that she'd be proud to have Edward read. She was about to close the book when she noticed some handwritten script inside the cover. She dipped her face closer to the text to read it.

_All words contained herein are the sole property and creation of Swan-I-Am. _

She laughed at the disclaimer, then looked up at Edward. "Is that the nickname I've doomed myself to? Swan-I-Am?"

He grinned. "I kind of like it. But I'm sure I can come up with a few others, if you'd like."

"Please," she begged, then lowered her eyes to the rest of his message.

_Bella ~_

_Your words move me. They make me feel things I could never begin to explain or describe. They deserve a canvas as special they are - as special as their author is. (Or at least one that doesn't have punch holes and perforations down the side.) I hope you find your inspiration here. I know I've found mine, in you._

_~ Edward_

Here it came again - that surge of emotion engulfing her, filling her to the brim until her eyes could no longer contain it.

"You've got to stop doing this to me," she said, trying to blink back more tears.

"Doing what?"

She almost laughed at the panic that flashed across his face.

"Making me cry. I don't want to cry on my birthday, damn it." She dabbed her fingers at the corners of her eyes before the tears could start rolling again.

"I'm not trying to make you cry, I swear," he said, confounded.

She waved the book at him in accusation. "Well, you can't write such beautiful things to me, and sing to me in a bar full of people - when I didn't even know you could sing like that, for fuck's sake - and not expect me to get all choked up."

His eyes widened in exasperation. "So what are you saying? You want me to stop doing nice things for you?"

"No. It's just -"

"Because I can be an asshole if you'd prefer, believe me," he interrupted.

She let out an abrupt laugh through her tears. "I don't think you can, actually." Her tone softened. "I wouldn't want you to."

"Good. Because I like doing nice things for you," he said, reaching out to fondle a few strands of hair near her face. "I'd like it even better if you'd let me."

"All right," she relented. "As long as you let me return the favor."

"You already have," he reminded her. "Here I thought I was going to surprise you by getting on stage tonight, but you were already a step ahead of me, asking that keyboardist to let me play. It felt like my birthday instead of yours."

"Great minds," she said with a smile. "Okay, so we're even."

"We're even," he agreed. He wasn't sure why that was so important to her, but he let it go.

Bella turned her attention back to the table, carefully setting down the diary and reaching for the smaller gift. She unwrapped it as leisurely as she did the first, prompting Edward to pantomime an exaggerated yawn. She gave his arm a swat before peeling off the last of the wrapping paper to reveal an oblong black box. She slowly opened it to find an elegant pen and pencil set within, the same deep claret and gold as the writing book he'd given her.

"They're not Montblancs or anything, but they should write pretty well," he said, sounding almost apologetic. "You can use the pencil for your rough drafts, so you can erase those scribbles you're so worried about."

"Good thinking," she replied. "These are perfect. I would have killed you if you'd splurged on something as expensive as Montblanc."

"You would have been worth it. And a hell of a lot more."

She looked up at him with that you're-too-much expression again, which only made him feel like he could never be enough. He reached out once more to touch her, and he wondered if he did it so often just to make sure she was real. Then the softness of her cheek under his fingertips reminded him that he did it because she felt so fucking good. He leaned down to kiss her for both of those reasons, and so many more that his brain could no longer enumerate them. It now registered only what his senses could perceive: Soft. Warm. Wet. Delicious. Her kiss was better than any dessert he could think of. Better than . . .

"Cake," his lips murmured against hers.

"What?" she mumbled back, disoriented.

"It's time for your birthday cake. Before I get any more distracted."

"But I was kind of enjoying the distraction," she whispered, reaching her hand up behind his neck in a futile effort to stop him from pulling away.

His sigh came out a little more like a groan. "But I told you I was a full-on birthday specialist, remember? And it's not a proper birthday without cake. Turning twenty is big. You have to do it up right."

"And don't you remember when I told you there is no right or wrong way to do things?

You taste better to me than any cake could," she whispered, wrapping her other hand around his neck to keep him close.

The sound he emitted was definitely a groan this time. "I was just thinking the same thing about you," he said, running his thumb over her juicy bottom lip, resisting the urge to taste it once more. "But I still think you should see the cake first before you make up your mind." He forced himself to disengage from her grip and head for the kitchenette at the other end of the room. Her arms dropped to her sides in disappointment .

"Why? Did you bake it?" she called after him.

"God, no," he retorted over his shoulder. "I wouldn't subject you to that."

"Oh, please," she scoffed, giving up and sitting down at the table, in the same chair she'd occupied during their first date. "I'll bet you can bake, too. I'm sure your grandmother taught you well."

"She did. But even she had her limits," he called back. She heard the strike of a match, so she leaned over the table to watch him light the candles, though the cake itself was partly out of view on the countertop in front of him. He reappeared in the doorway a minute later, carrying a square layer cake dotted with frosted flowers, glowing under the light of what was presumably twenty candles.

"Neither Emily or I could make something like this," he said, setting the cake platter atop the ribbon-strewn tabletop, directly in front of Bella.

"Wow," was all she could muster at the sight of it. Her birthday cake looked like something out of a magazine, geometrically perfect and covered with flawlessly smooth fondant in shades of pale yellow and cornflower blue. The floral embellishments were ornate and exquisitely detailed, from the butter-cream petals and leaves to the tiny edible pearls at their centers. The flowers adorned one corner of the cake and cascaded down two adjacent sides to the platter beneath. Scrawled across the top in a gorgeous script, surrounded by burning blue candles, was the ubiquitous "Happy Birthday, Bella."

"You'd better make a wish before the wax melts all over the frosting," he warned her as he sat down in the chair opposite hers.

"Hmm?" she murmured, blinking. She'd been a little mesmerized by the glowing masterpiece. "This is too pretty to eat. Oh, and I need to get a picture of it first!"

She leapt up at the thought of her forgotten new phone and ran for her purse, shoved inside her backpack near the front door. "I can't believe I haven't taken any pictures yet tonight," she lamented as she hopped back to the table, phone in hand. "Or that I didn't record that killer song you played with the band tonight. And my birthday song," she added, growing more wistful by the minute.

"That's probably just as well," Edward said, wincing.

"What do you mean? You sounded amazing. I still can't believe you never told me you could sing."

"That's because I can't. Not that well, anyway," he protested.

Her eyes popped open wide in disbelief. "Are you crazy? I love your voice. I loved hearing you sing even more than hearing you play."

He chortled and made a face like she was out of her mind, which only incensed her further.

"Sing it for me again," she demanded.

"What?" His grin withered.

"Sing me 'Happy Birthday' again, so I can record it this time."

"Oh-ho no," he refused, shaking his head. "I can't. Not without accompaniment. There's no piano in here tonight."

"You don't need a piano. What's that Lauren Bacall line from that old movie? 'You just put your lips together and blow.'"

"That's for whistling," he corrected her.

"Whatever." She ignored his continued head shakes of protest and turned on the video recording button of her phone. She held it up until both her gourmet cake and Edward's reluctant face were centered in the display screen.

"Sing 'Happy Birthday' to me, Edward. You have to, so I can blow out the candles and make a wish."

"Geezus," he grumbled, squinting and rubbing one eye with his fingertips before letting out an exaggerated sigh. He'd never been that confident in his singing abilities, especially without a piano to keep him on pitch. But one look into those expectant brown eyes of hers soon had him singing "Happy Birthday, dear Bella," in a husky, faltering tenor.

She barely noticed the nervous break in his voice. She was too enthralled by the liquid warmth of it, seeping down her spine like a shot of Black Velvet over crackling ice. The look in his eyes as he sang to her was every bit as intoxicating. She watched as his exasperation quickly faded to resignation, then turned to affection. This a cappella serenade was even more intimate than the version he'd performed earlier. Now there was nothing else to detract from his soft vibrato traveling across the table to her, making the candles waver slightly in its wake. Nothing to keep him from staring into her eyes with relentless and uncanny perception, reading what she was sure was written plainly there.

_I'm so in love with you._

She felt like it might as well be tattooed all over her body, carved indelibly into each cell. She knew now that she had loved him all along. Loved him since that first night. Loved him at first sight, first sound, first touch. She could no longer argue with the idea, pushing it aside because it might be foolish and she might get hurt. The love simply _was_. There was no denying it or excusing it away. She felt its aura radiating from her, filling the space between them, wrapping itself around Edward and drawing him to her.

"Happy birthday to you." His voice was nearly a whisper as he finished the song.

The air was heavy and still. He looked at the Bella's face, glowing with something far brighter than the candlelight between them. He knew he had to capture that look and hold onto it forever. He reached one hand out across the table, gently withdrawing the phone from her hand and pointing it back at her.

"Make a wish," he said.

She gazed at him for a long moment, letting him luxuriate in those dark pools before her lashes fell and concealed them. She smiled that little Mona Lisa smile; then she took a deep breath and blew.

She extinguished the entire circle of candles with one breath while Edward recorded the feat. He couldn't clap and hold the phone at the same time, so he made sure he gave her a loud whoop of congratulations.

"That's my girl," he concluded with a chuckle. "Complete annihilation with one blow."

She bit her lip and glanced down at the cake before quirking an eyebrow at him. "I do give one hell of a blow job, don't I?"

His laugh was an exclamation this time. "You'll get no arguments from me. And I'm guessing that this video isn't going to get sent to your parents anytime soon."

"Ha! Not without some serious editing."

Edward turned off the camera and handed it back to Bella, then returned to the kitchenette to retrieve serving plates, napkins and utensils. After setting them on the gaudy tabletop, he poised the knife over the cake and asked, "Frosting flowers: yes or no?"

"Yes," she answered immediately. "Lots of them. I intend to get a full-on sugar high in the next ten minutes. I won't be responsible for my actions after that."

"Is that a promise?" He gave her a suggestive smirk and proceeded to cut a large corner piece of cake for her, loaded with butter-cream flora. He cut himself a piece with far less fondant, pushed the cake platter out of the way, then sat across from her and grabbed a fork.

Bella grinned at the flavors he'd chosen. "Chocolate _and_ white?" she commented, scooping a forkful of the darker bottom layer.

"I didn't know which you liked better, so I went with a layer of each."

"Well, I like both. But chocolate definitely wins that battle."

"And now I know something else about you," he said with a smile.

"What about you? Which do you like best - dark or light?" Her question brought memories of their beach date rushing back to him.

"You can't have one without the other," he repeated her words from that day.

"Right. But that doesn't answer my question."

"More Twenty Questions," he teased. "That's two different questions, anyway. I prefer the light to darkness. But the decadence of chocolate is hard to resist."

He took a bite and chewed slowly, savoring the flavor, imagining it was the taste of those big brown eyes beckoning from the other side of the cake. Suddenly she giggled, and her cheeks reddened. She averted her eyes to her cake and cut into it with her fork.

"What were you thinking just now?" he demanded.

And there was his favorite bashful grin. "This just reminded me of our first dinner. Sitting in these exact spots, across from each other, eating dessert."

Her grin stretched wider, like she was smiling at some secret joke she was keeping from him.

"And . . . ?" he prompted her impatiently.

"And, that was the first time I fantasized about you," she admitted. She treated him to a long, tantalizing look before she turned her attention back to her cake.

"Really," he said, a statement more than a question. He let that sink in for a minute. They had barely had a conversation by then, and the one they did have was rife with brutal candor. He'd done a very poor job of seducing her at that point.

"So, what was your fantasy?" he probed. He folded his arms on the table and leaned forward, staring at her intently.

She looked up at him from under her lashes without raising her head. "I imagined leaning over the table and eating that tiramisu right out of your mouth," she said quietly.

His left eyebrow arched. "Why didn't you?" he asked, his voice just as hushed.

"I don't know. I couldn't be that forward with you."

"But you bought the right to be whatever you wanted to be with me. Forward, backward, and anything in between."

"Maybe I didn't know what I wanted. Not until you helped me figure it out."

"You knew exactly what you wanted," he contradicted her. He'd deduced that from the start. "You just couldn't acknowledge it yet. You couldn't accept that part of yourself that needed release. The part that wanted to give in to basic human desire."

Bella could feel her breath coming harder now. She was mirroring Edward, leaning over the table, her half-eaten cake forgotten as her eyes locked with his. She knew he spoke the truth.

"You made me give in," she whispered. "You set me free."

The corners of his mouth lifted slightly. "You were already on the brink. I just gave you a little nudge."

She shook her head. He'd given her far more than a nudge. He'd pushed her off the ledge so that her wings were forced to open and take flight. Then she'd soared, so high; and higher still, each time she was with him. She never wanted to come down.

"You were the only one who could have done it," she told him. "I was ready because of you. I was ready because I wanted you."

Their eyes fused across the table, bristling with the current of their mutual desire.

"What do you want now, Bella?"

It was all he could do to break the connection long enough to look down, pick up his fork and spear a bite of cake. His eyes snapped back to hers at the speed of light. But the fork was a ten-ton weight in his hand, heavy with portent as he slid it into his mouth. He felt like he was moving in slow motion when he pulled it back out, laid it on the table, and began to chew. The anticipation made the seconds drag into an eternity.

Bella felt the gravity of it as he taunted her with her fantasy. He was going to make it come true right now. All she had to do was act this time instead of wishing.

In the literal blink of an eye, the wait was over. Bella lunged from her chair and over the table; Edward stood and leaned in to meet her halfway. Then there was nothing but his mouth, filled with melting sugar, merging with her own. Their tongues scrambled awkwardly to keep the cake in their mouths, to no avail. They began to laugh; crumbs fell to the table and frosting smeared around their lips. They opened their eyes to look at the glorious mess they'd made of one another. Then they laughed and kissed some more, until the cake and the humor were gone, and the kiss was all that remained.

Edward broke away at last, panting, raising one hand to cradle Bella's face as his eyes questioned hers.

"What was next?" he asked, his breath quick and urgent on her face.

"Next?" she repeated woozily.

"Your fantasy. What happened next?"

She tried to catch her breath as she thought back to that night. "Well, I'm pretty sure I untied your tie . . . which you're not wearing right now," she said, lifting her hand to his naked throat, gently stroking his Adam's apple. He swallowed and it bobbed under her touch. "And then I unbuttoned your shirt . . . but you're already unbuttoned," she continued, running her fingers slowly down the thin cotton of the t-shirt he wore beneath a faded plaid over-shirt.

"I guess we'll have improvise," he murmured, watching her hand descend toward the waistband of his jeans.

She nodded, giving him a wicked glance before focusing on his button fly. "These are a little tighter than your suit was. In my fantasy, I was able to slide my hand right down the front . . . all the way." She stuffed her fingers under the denim waistband and stroked curls of his happy trail, up and down. Like a good soldier, Junior began to salute.

Edward exhaled heavily, relishing the feel of her warm fingers on his stomach. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

She reached her hand down further, underneath the elastic of his briefs. The minute her fingers grazed that stiffening rod of flesh, she replied, "I most definitely found what I was looking for. And then some."

Edward tried to relax the grip he had on her jaw, his hand still holding her face close to his though the table separated their bodies. "And how did I respond to this . . . discovery of yours?"

Her eyelids were heavy with desire, as was her breath on his face. "You took my virginity, right here. On this table." He felt her fingers leave his pants and travel beneath his t-shirt until her hand rested on his bare chest. "You gave me a first time I'll never forget."

He knew her last words were the truth. She was no longer delving in fantasy. She was speaking of reality. And he knew this reality would far surpass anything either of their minds could conjure up.

He let go of her face and stood upright, then took her hand and guided her to meet him at the head of the table. As soon as they arrived, he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her onto its streamer-covered surface, knocking balloons to the floor below. She'd barely got out a shriek of laughter before he silenced it with a kiss, crushing her so close to him that she couldn't catch her breath. When he finally stopped, she gasped for air, gripping his shoulders to get her bearings. His fingers combed through her hair, massaging her scalp, holding her face near his.

"Undress me," he ordered. His eyes were emerald flames licking at her, his voice liquid persuasion. She needed no other enticement. This was her fantasy, after all.

She pushed the plaid over his shoulders and lifted the white cotton from his torso. He raised his arms in obedience, eager to expedite the process. But once his pale, magnificent flesh was exposed, she faltered, wanting to savor the sight and feel of him. She ran her hands slowly down the scratchy stubble of his neck, over the smooth skin of his shoulders and the swell of his biceps, over his long forearms to his elegant hands. She briefly clasped their warmth in hers before letting go and returning to the sparse curls of hair on his chest. She smoothed her palms over his pectorals, then swirled her fingertips over his nipples until they became hard, pink buttons under her touch. Without thinking, she knelt her head and pressed wet lips to one, then the other, before kissing her way across the expanse of warm skin between them. She was right - nothing could taste better to her than he did.

Edward's sighs were full of appreciation. God, how he'd missed her. The gentle touch of her hands all over him, the warmth of her lips on his skin . . . this was his nirvana. He had to feel her, kiss her, the same way. He assumed that at some point in this first-time fantasy of hers, he had undressed her, so he went for it now, pulling at the hem of her t-shirt until she raised her arms and let him remove it. He wasted no time reaching around to unhook her bra, sliding his fingers beneath it to loosen it, then moving them to the front so that he could caress the round swells of her breasts.

It was her turn for sighs, her eyes closing for a moment to savor the sensation of her nipples responding to his touch. Their hardening corresponded to a distinct clenching of the muscles deep in her belly, like the nerve endings between them were hotwired together. When Edward removed the flimsy bra and knelt to suck her left breast into his mouth, she was sure of the connection. Her fingers sank into the thick hair at the nape of his neck, clutching him tightly as his tongue and teeth worked her left nipple into a swollen knot while her genitals burned with envy. By the time he switched his affections to her right breast, her back was arching and her thighs were spreading in readiness.

Edward's body reacted instinctively, one hand sliding down her back to her hip, pulling her body closer. His dick strained against his jeans, pressing into her abdomen; their owners moaned softly in unison. Instinct and desire drove Bella's hands from his hair, down to free Junior from its denim prison. She worked at the buttons with nimble fingers, then shoved Edward's jeans and briefs down until his erection sprang free. The burning between her thighs increased as she stared at it, longer and thicker and pinker than she remembered.

Why was she always startled for a moment at the sight of that engorged penis? Perhaps because she was still amazed that her body had learned to accommodate it - no, welcome it - so quickly. She wrapped her fingers around it now in a firm handshake, reintroducing herself to its hard, silky heat. It responded by twitching slightly under her touch, its owner tilting his hips toward her and emitting the loveliest of moans.

Bella lifted her eyes back to Edward's, blazing at her from beneath heavy lids. His breath grew more labored as she stroked him, and his eyelids closed more frequently as his pleasure intensified. Finally he grabbed her face and dove in for a kiss, his lips hard on hers, tongue probing her mouth in time to the rhythm of her hand working his cock. Her own tongue moved with his, swirling, pushing, dancing in mimicry of the sexual act it presaged.

By the time they broke apart in gasping moans, Edward's hands had traveled the length of her body to her own jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them hastily. But now he needed her help.

"Lie down," he ordered, his voice thick with lust.

But she was already resting back on her elbows, hips tilted upward in readiness. He gripped the denim waistband of her pants and yanked firmly until they slid down over her hips, then her thighs. Her underwear came with them, and he grunted at the sight of the juicy pink flesh between her legs. He couldn't remember ever wanting someone the way he wanted her, right now.

He made quick work of her sneakers, letting them fall to the floor before removing her pants entirely and tossing them to the nearest chair. He finished undressing himself as well, letting his own clothes and shoes lie in a pile at his feet. When he turned his eyes back to her, she was lying flat on the table, hair fanned out around her head in a dark halo. The cake platter crowned her, and their plates of half-eaten confection rested by her sides. Beneath her lay a rainbow of streamers, ribbons and glittering confetti, a colorful backdrop which served to highlight the glowing perfection of her ivory skin. She was a vision, an angel, a work of art.

But "God, you're beautiful," was all he could seem to muster at the sight.

She looked up into his adoring, hungry eyes and her own hunger and adoration mounted. She felt exposed and on display, yet Edward's obvious appreciation made her brave. It heightened her desire, as did his fully aroused cock pointing at her. Its proximity to her open legs made the muscles within her begin to pulse again, squeezing open and shut, ready to grip that fleshy rod deep inside.

Her eyes closed and she moaned softly at the feel of his hands on her once more, cradling her knees and then sliding up the insides of her thighs. She gasped at the sensation of his fingers stroking her sex, first tracing the outer lips, then spreading them to reach the tender, damp flesh between. He used both hands, taking turns probing her most sensitive spots until she was slippery with desire. Her eyes rolled back in her head slightly and her moan was louder this time. God, what he did to her, with just a touch . . .

Edward thrilled to her responsiveness. The way her body surged up to meet him; the unchecked sounds she made. This was why he wanted to bring her here, instead of his house. There was a magic that happened when they were alone, truly alone, with no one else in earshot. No one to make her inhibited or self-conscious. No one to stop her sexuality from fully expressing itself.

He stood upright to look at her, lying spread-eagle before him like that first night, lit now by the golden light of a chandelier filtered through a dozen multi-colored balloons. The pink petals of her sex and the rosy peaks of her breasts were far more gorgeous than the sculpted flowers on the nearby cake. Still, their proximity gave him an idea that he couldn't resist.

Grinning, he reached over to Bella's half-eaten cake and scooped up one of the larger frosting flowers with his fingers, trying to keep the petals intact.

"Hold still," he instructed as he leaned over her.

"What are you . . . ?" she began, then stopped as his intent became clear. She craned her neck up and gaped in surprise as Edward positioned the yellow flower directly over her right nipple.

"Oh my God," she exclaimed with a slight shriek when the cold icing hit her skin. Then she began giggling, and the flower wobbled precariously.

"Don't laugh," he ordered, though he was having trouble holding it in himself. "It'll fall off."

"And what a tragedy that would be," she commented sarcastically. She watched in silence as he topped her other breast with another flower, this one blue. He stood up, grinning down at her, looking quite pleased with himself.

"At least you could have made them match," she reprimanded him, still trying not to laugh.

"That would be boring. You're more unique than that. One of a kind, actually."

She felt a full-body flush race through her at his words; at his eyes appraising her. When his gaze lingered between her legs, the flush only increased.

"Please tell me you're not going to smear frosting down there," she begged. She couldn't decide if that would be sexy, or a hygienic disaster.

He looked as if he were considering the implications as well. "I don't think I will," he concluded. "That particular flower is absolutely perfect the way it is. Not that those aren't," he added quickly with a glance at her iced breasts. "But I don't want to ruin the flavor of this." He reached his clean hand down to her pussy, stroking it for a moment before putting his fingers to his mouth to lick her essence from them. "So much better than frosting," he told her, his eyes burning into hers once more. Then he brought his icing-covered fingers to his mouth, but her voice stopped him before he could lick them clean.

"Let me," she said.

A shot of pure adrenalin coursed through him as he reached his hand down to her lips. She grabbed it and pulled his frosting-filled fingers into her mouth, licking them up and down with languorous thoroughness. Her eyes were heavy with innuendo as she sucked each finger down to the bottom knuckle, her tongue tickling the webs of flesh between. His cock throbbed with envy; he stroked himself in accompaniment until she was finished. He was dying to attack her now, to suck those flowers from her breasts, drink deep from her pussy and fuck her until she screamed his name.

But at the same time, he wanted to memorize how she looked right now, an ethereal sculpture, the epitome of beauty, the embodiment of everything that drove him to aching want and need.

And then he spied her smartphone from the corner of his eye, and his dilemma was solved. He grabbed it and turned it on, while Bella stirred beneath him in protest.

"You are not going to film me," she commanded. The embarrassment and self-consciousness she thought she'd gotten rid of came rushing back in full force.

"No, I'm not," he assured her quickly, before she lurched up and ruined the moment. "It would be very easy for me to record an extremely hot porno right now, but I wouldn't do that to you. Not until you're ready." He grinned at the indignation flaring in her eyes. "But I would take a picture to capture how gorgeous you look right now. A birthday portrait to end all birthday portraits."

Bella knew her cheeks were flaming despite her attempts to remain calm. "I'm sure I look ridiculous. I have yellow and blue cake flowers for boobs."

"You're a fucking work of art," he shot back, his humor fading. "You have no idea." He shook his head and centered her image on the smartphone display screen. "No idea."

An eerie thrill shot through her at the tone in his voice, the look in his eyes. The same look from earlier. So intense it made her burn deep within more than ever before.

"At least cover up my snatch," she said weakly, grabbing a nearby streamer to throw between her legs. She couldn't close them because his own thighs stood between them. He stopped her efforts to cover herself with The Look again.

"That," he said emphatically, looking straight at her wide-open pussy, "is the most beautiful flower on this table. Don't you dare cover it up, or be ashamed of it." His eyes met hers, softer this time. "Don't you remember what I told you that first night? There's no room for shame here. Not with me."

Oh, God. There they came again - the tears. She squeezed her lids shut for a moment to force them back. Then she opened her eyes and looked straight into his, giving him her own Look back.

_No shame. I'm ready. I want this. I want you._

He saw the surrender in her eyes once more, just like the first time. Overwhelming relief and desire surged through him at once. That rule-breaking free spirit of hers was back.

One picture was all it took. He knew he'd captured the moment as soon as he saw the still frame on the phone. That angelic face, those devil-may-care eyes. Those sensual curves offering the promise of ecstasy. It was all there, captured for an eternity: his temptation, his salvation, his reason for being.

But he took one more picture, enlarging the parameters this time. At the base of his human Venus hovered his own rigid flesh-and-blood sword, desperate to invade and conquer the beauty that lay before it. To disappear inside its warm depths; to be surrounded by its embrace and coaxed to a climax of utter euphoria and release. He already knew where she would take him. He only hoped to take her there with him.

Edward dropped the phone to the table and fell on Bella with an urgency that surprised neither of them. He devoured the flowers from her breasts, their sugary sweetness tempered by the creamy tartness of her flesh beneath. His hands were everywhere, sparking every inch of her skin to life as his mouth traveled down her torso, scattering kisses and tender love bites in a chaotic pattern leading to her groin. And then his lips were on her nether lips, sucking them, parting them, tongue plunging ahead until it found the sweet nectar dripping from her opening.

She sighed and moaned as he licked and probed. Her hands became tangled in the locks of his bronze hair, thick and soft compared to the rough stubble that ignited the flesh between her thighs. Her hips undulated beneath him, urging his tongue deeper inside. The sounds they uttered became increasingly urgent and primal until he finally tore his mouth from her sex and plunged two fingers inside her instead.

She cried out and her hips surged upward, pulling his fingers in deeper. He wanted to be more gentle with her, but he couldn't seem to stop himself from thrusting his hand in short, quick bursts that had her body tensing and rising off the table. Her exclamations matched the quaking of her body - gasps of, "Oh God - Oh yes - Oh please - Oh fuck" that only spurred him on. Her body loved the manic pace, and he could feel it escalating toward orgasm. She was going to come already. He suspected he would love it as much as she did.

Bella squirmed and bucked on the table, wanting to grab Edward's wrist and stop him, but knowing she would do no such thing. He had masturbated her like this in his bedroom last week, but this was even more intense, almost brutal, yet so maddeningly pleasurable that she wanted to scream. She did scream, at last. Her climax was too strong for her to contain it. She'd never come quite like this before, her muscles contracting so tightly that they squeezed Edward's fingers for one agonizingly endless moment before releasing and contracting again.

She sobbed in release as she came undone more thoroughly than ever before at Edward's hands. Through the haze of her ecstasy she saw him staring down at her, his eyes glassy in wonder and satisfaction. He loved making her this way, the smug bastard. Perversely, she loved his smugness, his sureness, his sheer elation at doing this to her.

And when he finally released her, she quickly realized he wasn't done yet.

He disappeared briefly, leaning over to retrieve his jeans from the floor. He reappeared with a condom wrapper in hand, fiddling with it until he tore it open and rolled the latex onto his rock-hard cock. She moaned at the sight of it, still reeling from what he'd done to her. And now he wanted to do it again, already? She didn't know if she could take another orgasm like that one.

"I know, you hate condoms," he said, misreading her dismay. "But honestly, baby, in the state you're in, you're not going to notice it, I promise you."

She tried to catch her breath, to ready herself for the next sensual onslaught. But when he rubbed his erection up and down her still-sensitive clit, she gasped again at the intensity. And when he pushed it inside her, it knocked the wind out of her entirely. It came rushing out of her lungs in two desperate syllables:

"God, yes!"

Edward stopped short after her loud, wanton cry. He had never seen her like this: bathed in a sheen of sweat, skin bright pink from her chest to her forehead, lungs heaving, back arching. She seemed to be in some kind of sexual thrall, and she was rapidly pulling him in with her. He grasped her hips firmly in his hands and thrust deep, his cock sliding easily into her tight opening, as drenched as she was with arousal. He hated the condom now himself, wishing he could feel that wet heaven encasing him. But the friction created by his repeated thrusting soon had him riding that wave of growing ecstasy, panting and moaning along with her.

Bella didn't know what to do with her hands. She buried them in her own hair, not being able to reach Edward, other than to occasionally grip his hands or forearms. The two of them watched with lust-filled fascination as every inch of his thick cock disappeared inside her, then reappeared briefly before plunging deep once more. As his rhythm increased, he lifted her hips right off the table, pulling her body flush to his with each thrust. Only her shoulders and head remained supported by her table full of birthday streamers. The rest of her was suspended in air, held aloft by Edward's hands gripping her hips and his cock pounding her pussy, faster and faster, deeper and deeper, until she couldn't take it anymore. She needed to come. Her body was screaming for the release.

Her hand reached for her clit before she even knew what she was doing. She stroked herself rapidly, willing the blood flooding her groin to come to a boiling point and finally spill over.

"Fuck, that feels so good," Edward gasped. He didn't know what was better - watching her fondle herself, or feeling the pressure of her fingers on him while he fucked her. "Oh baby, you're killing me. You're so fucking sexy. Christ."

He tried to shut up then, because he knew he sounded like an idiot. But he couldn't seem to care. Bella didn't seem to care, either. She even joined him as her own pleasure escalated. Her eyes squeezed shut and she finally cried, "I'm going to come, I'm going to come . . ."

_God, yes!_ He couldn't wait to see it again, to feel it this time. But she was too far away.

"Come here, baby," he whispered. "Let me see you."

He lowered her to the table long enough to slide his hands under her shoulders and pull her upright. They were face to face now, eyes locked in crazed anticipation. She wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his torso as he pulled her closer. He began moving inside her again, building quickly to the crescendo they'd both been waiting for.

Bella found herself bouncing off the table once more, hanging onto Edward for dear life, suspended in air and impaled on his cock, so deep . . . so deep. How could anyone be so deep inside her? Could he be any more a part of her than he was right now?

She looked just as deep into his eyes and then cried out at the answer. _No. _Her body convulsed all around him in a lovers' mantra: _Mine. Mine. Mine. _

Edward clutched her writhing form to his as the same possessive thoughts flooded him. This girl . . . Dear God, this girl. He would never let her go.

He set her back on the table as her orgasm subsided, but he didn't release her. They were both shaking. It was all Edward could do to keep from coming himself, but he wasn't about to let this end. Not yet.

Bella's breathing slowed, and she relaxed in the cradle of his arms as he gently rubbed her back and covered her face with tiny kisses. When he finally withdrew from inside her, she realized that he hadn't come along with her on this last ride. She glanced down at his cock, still rock hard, pointing up at her.

Her brow creased in confusion. "Why didn't you come?"

His answering grin was maddening. "Because I'm not finished with you yet."

She stared at him in a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

"What do you mean?" she finally asked him warily.

His grin grew positively wicked.

"You didn't think I'd forget about your birthday spanking, did you?"

.

.

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><p><strong>This was by far my longest chapter, but hopefully it didn't seem like it. It has been proofread only by yours truly, so I apologize for any typos. Hopefully by the end, you wouldn't notice 'em anyway. ;)<strong>

**You know how much I love all your support and great reviews - you all rock. I'm a very lucky girl to have you! xoxo**


	38. Chapter 38

**A few of you thought I should have issued some kind of heat index warning on the last chapter. But I never know what anyone else is going to find hot! Let's just say that this chapter picks up right where the last one left off.**

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><p>"Spanking?"<p>

Bella repeated the word weakly, giving Edward a pleading look. He'd warned her about the whole birthday spanking idea last weekend, but she'd hoped he was joking. She should have known better. After all, he'd given her quite a few playful swats as a "sneak preview." Maybe under different circumstances, a little slap and tickle might be fun. But after the sexual onslaught she'd just enjoyed at Edward's hands - and other parts - she was spent.

"You know I won't hurt you, right?" he murmured. He was a bit worried at the anxious look on her face. "I have a feeling you'll actually like it."

"You mean _you'll_ like it," she retorted. "Do I get to spank you back?"

"Sure," he answered with an agreeable smirk. "My birthday is next June."

"Not funny. That's almost a year away."

He grasped her face gently in both hands and looked deeply into her eyes. "Bella, you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want."

Her eyebrows raised infinitesimally. "Anything?"

His eyes narrowed. "What do you have in mind?"

"I have no idea," she replied with a feeble laugh. "But I'll think of something."

"You do that. I like living out your fantasies." His eyes darkened ever so slightly, to that hungry animal look. "Now I need you to turn around so I can live out mine."

Electricity crackled down her spine at his command. She was a little disconcerted at how hot it made her. The heat seeped slowly through her belly like molten lava, and she realized that, unbelievably, she was ready for more of whatever he wanted to give her.

Edward stepped back, pulling her off the edge of the table to stand before him. He immediately drew her into his arms and kissed her, first gently, then with more insistence. By the time his lips strayed from hers and trailed kisses down her neck, she was putty in his hands.

And his hands were everywhere, gentle but persuasive, caressing and cradling her closer as his mouth worked its way over her shoulders and chest. Her own hands followed a similar path, over his shoulders and down the sculpted muscles of his back; up the supple flesh of his waist and then to his neck, where her fingers sank into his hair. God, he felt so good . . . hard and soft in all the right places, towering over her in irresistibly masculine strength. The closer he pulled her, the more she dissolved against the heat of his skin, melting into his embrace, feeling completely at one with him once more.

She was barely cognizant of her body slowly being turned in his arms. Edward's movements were so subtle that she twisted of her own accord to allow his lips better access to the hollow of her collarbone; to let his hands roam the tender skin beneath her arms. His mouth methodically moved over her shoulder to her back as one hand gathered her hair and pushed it aside. She closed her eyes let her head drop to the side; and when she opened them, she was somehow facing the table, Edward's arms encircling her from behind and pulling her back against him.

"Damn, you're good," she mumbled, feeling the hot breath of his chuckles on her neck a second later. His erection pressed against her tailbone; his right hand reached up to cup one breast. She could feel her back arching, her body stretching to push her ass against him. Apparently it knew what it wanted better than her addled brain did.

"So, when you had that fantasy of me taking you on this table, how did it happen?" he questioned, his breath sending tremors down her spine as always. "Did you imagine it missionary style, the way we just did it?" His right hand wandered to her other breast, fingers circling its nipple until it was erect; his left hand splayed over her belly, inching toward her sex. "Or did I take you from behind, like this?"

He tilted his hips against her, slowly rubbing his cock between her cheeks. Her heart and lungs were in a race now, each trying to outpace the other. Were his questions rhetorical? Or was she actually supposed to formulate some kind of coherent answer?

"Tell me," he insisted, his lips grazing her earlobe, his arms pressing her body tightly against his.

"I don't know," she gasped. "I didn't have time for a detailed fantasy. I was still trying to carry on a conversation with you, remember?"

He chuckled again. "I remember it well. I was trying so hard to figure you out. I never dreamed you were already imagining the things you wanted me to do to you. Even if they were just fleeting thoughts."

"I was trying to figure you out, too," she admitted, attempting to slow her breathing. "I knew you didn't want to be here, escorting. That something was driving you to it. I think that's when I knew I wanted you - when I figured out that you weren't who you were pretending to be. That there was more to you under that glib, pretty surface. When you played the piano for me, I knew for sure."

His movements stilled at the revelation. He exhaled slowly into the back of her neck, closing his eyes. "And that's when I knew you'd never settle for the surface. That you wanted the real me. Warts and all." His arms squeezed her more tightly, his body swaying slightly with hers. "You scared me to death."

She turned her face toward his in surprise, craning to look him in the eyes. "Ironic," she whispered. "That was the exact moment I stopped being afraid. Started trusting you. Started wanting you, for real. Not just a fantasy for one night."

A wry smile spread across his face. "That's exactly what scared me. I knew it was for real. No pretending anymore. I wasn't ready for that."

"And now?" she whispered.

"Now?" He paused, looking down into those hopeful brown eyes. "I don't give a damn about ready or not ready. I just want you in my life." _You are my life now, _he wanted to add. He would say the words when he knew he could back them up.

"So you're not afraid anymore?"

"Only of losing you," he replied. "What about you? Are you afraid?"

Her answer was an unequivocal, "No."

"You trust me?" His grin was faintly wicked, and she had the feeling the fun and games were about to resume.

"Should I?" she shot back.

"I don't know," he murmured, burying his lips in her neck once more. His hands began to wander, exploring, caressing. His left hand crept closer to the tiny triangle of hair low on her abdomen, and her hips instinctively tilted up toward his touch. He emitted a tiny growl of satisfaction at her body's response. "Sometimes I get carried away with you. So far, you seemed to have enjoyed the ride. But you'll have to tell me if you don't. Stop me if I go too far. Promise?"

Another electric thrill shot through her, and she could muster only a nod in response. She wondered vaguely if there was something wrong with her, being so turned on at his warnings of sexual decadence. But his body was moving against hers again, and she could think of nothing except the sensations of his fingers dipping down to her sex as his erection slid firmly between her cheeks. He continued this way for another minute or two, fingers and cock stroking her to moaning readiness for more.

"Put your hands on the table," he instructed softly, the honey of it dripping down each vertebrae until it settled at base of her spine. His body leaned against hers, pushing her gently forward until her hands shot out to catch herself. She felt the warm glide of his fingers up and down her sides before settling over her ass, cupping and then pulling at her buttocks, opening her up to him. She was amazed at her body's response: not to shy away, but to lift her backside and spread her legs to receive him. Her belly throbbed with a desire so strong that she whimpered softly before he even touched her. She moaned the minute the cool air met her dripping sex, now utterly exposed to Edward's lust-filled gaze and rock-hard dick.

She glanced over her shoulder to see his expression, his hooded eyes zeroing in on the prize between his hands. The hunger she saw there only made her pussy throb more, impatient to experience this new sensation of being entered from behind. She no longer felt in control of her actions. Her back arched and she leaned down on her elbows to give him better access.

He muttered some thoughtless obscenity at her wanton invitation. God, she was gorgeous. He said so aloud then, smoothing his hands over those two scoops of vanilla flesh, pulling at them once more to study the beautiful entrances that lay between. He wanted them both - the beautifully opened flower of her vagina hovering beneath the tightly closed bud of her anus. Maybe someday he would train that bud to open as well. He knelt down to taste both, tonguing the nectar-filled flower before working at its reluctant neighbor. Her appreciative moan gave him hope that he might succeed in coaxing it to relax one day.

"Delicious," he murmured, giving each of her cheeks a gentle bite before standing upright and running his hands over her buttocks once more. Then, without warning, he gave them a slap, the flat of his hand bouncing noisily off of her firm flesh. He eyed the tiny reverberations with satisfaction while she yelped in surprise. He massaged her cheeks and pretended to ignore the glare she gave him over her shoulder.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked, though he was fairly certain the answer was "no." He would never dream of hitting a woman in any real way, and if his playful swats during sex were unwanted, he would stop immediately. He stilled his hands at Bella's waist and waited for her reaction.

Had he hurt her? No, not really. Pain was not what she felt at all. After the initial sting of his palm striking her skin subsided, she felt only warm, residual tingles surging through her genitals. When the tingles fizzled, she immediately wanted to feel them again.

Instead, she received the warmth of his hands gliding up her body once more, over her back, soothing her. Heaven. And then the heat of his body leaning over hers, his torso pressing against her back.

"Answer me. Did I hurt you, Bella?" came his whisper in her ear.

She shook her head, not sure if she could speak. Finally, she managed to croak a small, "No."

His hands wound in her hair, playing, pulling gently. "Did it feel good?" he asked this time.

She expelled a shaky breath. "Yes."

She could feel his grin next to ear, the breath of his soundless chuckle scorching her neck.

"That's good, because we have nineteen more to go."

She emitted a sound that was half laugh, half sob. This was crazy. Too much. Was he really going to count? She didn't know if she could take it.

And she couldn't wait to find out.

He let out a sound of lusty satisfaction as he stood upright, leaving her back cold and exposed once more. The light graze of his fingers left trails of goose-bumps down her back on their way to her derriere, where he circled them around and around until the nerves in her cheeks danced with anticipation.

When his hand finally came down hard on her left cheek, she shrieked aloud - not in surprise at the attack, but at the pure pleasure it gave her. It reverberated through her core, resonating deep in her groin once more. His hand stroking the offended cheek did nothing to lessen the sensation, and his other hand suddenly slapping her right cheek seconds later only intensified it.

"That's three already," he commented, his voice growing husky. "It'll be over before you know it."

_No, _was the first thought that popped into her head. She was worried she'd blurted it out loud. With most of the blood in her body rushing south of her waist, it left precious little for her woozy brain to work with.

It didn't matter - he'd read her swooning mind already. "I'm not sure you'll want me to stop at twenty, anyway," he added, his tone teasing, yet somehow not. His hands were massaging her buttocks once more, thumbs repeatedly pulling them apart and letting them relax shut, causing the throbbing between them to increase exponentially.

"Do you hear that?" he murmured softly, as if half to himself. "So wet. You're getting so wet for me . . ." _Slap! _Both hands swatted her cheeks simultaneously. ". . . I don't know how much longer I can keep from sliding my cock into that slippery pussy of yours."

A whimper escaped her as she writhed on the tabletop. Her hands clawed at the streamers beneath her fingernails; her breath stirred the confetti and blew bits of it across the table. Only four spanks and she was a shameless, wanton thing before him, awaiting whatever he wanted to give her. His lips, his tongue, his hands, his cock, his entire body . . . kissing, biting, sucking, stroking, spanking, fucking. She wanted it all. And she wanted to give it all back to him in return.

Edward gazed down at Bella's cheeks, pink and quivering under his tender assault. He couldn't keep his hands off of them, so round and soft and inviting; so eager to be taunted, tested and taken. Her body stretched and yearned toward him like a cat in heat, and his hackles were up in readiness, every hair on his body as erect and alive as his desperate cock. He really didn't know how much longer he could go without fucking her. Had he ever wanted anyone this much? With this kind of urgency, this sheer ache inside?

His hand came down across her beautiful buttocks once more, low and close to her swollen sex. Magic number five. Yes, that was the spot - the one to make her groans more guttural, more desperate. _Yes. Please be as desperate for me as I am for you. Desperate for me to stop . . . desperate for me to never stop._

He leaned over her again, pressing his body against hers, loving the sear of her skin on his. She was grasping at the party decorations, panting; and when his body came in contact with hers, she arched into him again. Yes, she was as gone as he was. As hungry and ready for more. For everything.

"Do you want me to fuck you now?" he rasped into her ear, his teeth grabbing onto the lobe for a moment after he finished.

She would have laughed at his crudeness, at the absurdity of his question, if the hormones coursing through her hadn't rendered everything he did the epitome of sex right now. She had no energy for humor or propriety. Everything he had said so far was the truth. She _did _love what he was doing to her. She _was_ dripping with desire for him. Did she want him to fuck her?

"God, yes," she gasped, reaching back to grab a shank of his hair in her hand. She turned her face toward his and he claimed her in a kiss, fierce with probing hunger. She felt him shift behind her, adjusting the tip of his erection to find her entrance. With one long, slow stroke, he plunged deep inside her, stabbing into her belly with an intensity she'd never felt before. She cried out in pain and wonder at how different this felt from the times before. Why was she so much tighter? It was almost like the first time, her vagina being pushed to new limits once more.

"It's going to feel more intense from this angle," he whispered in quick explanation. He wound one hand into her hair and gently rubbed her neck. "I'm sorry if I hurt you. Just relax. I'll go slow until you're used to it."

His body undulated ever so slightly against hers, retreating a little before returning, rocking gently into her until she was rocking along with him. He was right, as always. The pressure of him inside her remained, but the shock of discomfort wore off, replaced by a gnawing hunger. He began to slide out a little more with each retreat, pushing all the way back in again, until her body began to welcome the slow, rhythmic invasion. Gradually she felt herself pushing back into each thrust, tilting her hips up to take the now delicious punishment of him stretching and filling her from behind.

Edward's breathing grew heavier, his actions less careful, as Bella began to respond to this new pleasure. Her whimpers faded into rasps of desire similar to his own. He began to raise his body from hers as he picked up the pace. He was mesmerized by the vision of her prostrate before him, not just tolerating his cock anymore but taking it willingly, even gladly. The sight of it, not to mention the feel of it, was nearly more than he could take. How was he going to keep from coming too soon?

"You're too much for me, Bella," he murmured under his breath, skimming his hands down her back and squeezing her buttocks once more. "Too much."

He gave her left cheek a smack as he pumped into her. He heard her breath catch, felt her body stiffen; and then she collapsed with a soft moan so erotic that he had to hear it again.

"Seven," he whispered, resuming the count on Bella's birthday spanking. He brought his hand down on her right cheek this time with another deep thrust. Her moan deepened along with it, and a new rhythm was born.

"Eight." Thrust.

"Nine." Thrust.

"Ten." Thrust.

He slapped alternating buttocks as he drove his dick inside her, watching her flesh quiver and still before the next onslaught. He felt like a man possessed, hypnotized by the sights, sounds and sensations of this sexual play. As absorbed as he was in his own pleasure, he was still highly attuned to hers, listening and watching for any signs that she was not enjoying this game.

Was it even a game anymore? It felt more like a test. A test of trust, certainly; and perhaps of limits. She had promised to tell him if she had reached hers.

She had not.

Bella wasn't sure what she had reached, but this new place, this new state of being, was oddly exhilarating. She supposed she should feel affronted instead of aroused, being bent over the table, fucked from behind and slapped on the ass like an animal, or one of those shameless girls in the online videos she'd watched. But she didn't feel the shame or humiliation she thought she should, and she knew why.

Edward never made her feel cheap, or used.

Even in this act of dominance over her, she trusted him completely. She knew that if she said, "Enough," he would stop. And if she wanted to turn the tables on him and be the aggressor, he would let her.

"Eleven." Thrust.

Her right cheek smarted from the burn of his palm. The burning intensified as it traveled deep into her belly, where his cock filled her to the hilt once more. Fuck, that felt good. How? Why?

"Twelve." Thrust.

Who cared? She moaned aloud this time as tiny shockwaves barreled inward from her left cheek. She wondered if he could feel them in his cock when he propelled himself into her. Maybe that was part of the appeal - not just the power trip of him towering over her, but the sheer physical pleasure of friction and force.

"Thirteen." Thrust.

She gasped and reveled in the continued rhythmic onslaught. The heat of his harmless slaps was no longer dissipating, but seemed to be building, spreading. She knew what that meant. The blood was congesting in her nether regions. If he kept this up, he would make her come again, for the third time in less than an hour.

"Fourteen." Thrust.

Her cry was more urgent this time. She didn't need to say the words, did she? Surely he felt what was happening; what he was doing to her. She pushed up slightly on her forearms, pressing her ass flush against him, taking his cock as deeply as possible, grinding against him to intensify the sensations racking her groin. She craned her neck to look over her shoulder, to look him in the eyes. His gaze was the definition of smoldering, the conflagration in his eyes matching the one blazing between her legs.

"Fuck," he hissed helplessly.

He'd never seen that expression on her face. He'd witnessed her surrender before; felt its irresistible pull. But he'd never seen her own it like this. She was prone and vulnerable before him, yet she had never owned him so completely. More than that, she owned the act that was taking place between them. She was master of the intensity, the urgency, the sheer ecstasy that was about to engulf them both.

"You're amazing," he said, his voice breaking under the weight of her power.

He no longer needed to count aloud - they both chanted the numbers in their fevered minds. _Fifteen. Sixteen. _Edward slapped Bella's buttocks simultaneously now as he hammered her with increasing speed, fingers gently soothing her bright pink flesh for mere seconds between thrusts. _Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen._

_Twenty._

Their bodies trembled and pulsated as one, but it still wasn't close enough.

He reached over and pulled gently at her shoulders. "Stand up," he said, as much a plea as an order. She pushed up on her hands and let his arms enfold her, pulling her body as close as he could and still angle his pelvis under her ass. He drove into her faster, his groin ramming against hers, forcing them both to whimper in desperation.

"I can't hold out anymore," he grunted into her hair, his hand sliding down to her sex and stroking her in time with his thrusts. He hoped she was close - she was, wasn't she? - but his mind was lost to the escalating euphoria that was driving every cell in his body to imminent release.

"Let go," Bella told him, just like the first time.

As soon as he did, she was able to do the same.

.

.

.

"This is nice."

Bella bit her lip, hating how lame that sounded. She was still staring at Edward from across the candlelit bubbles in the two-person bathtub, and he was staring back. They had barely spoken since finally leaving the dining room to take a bath, at his suggestion. What was there to say, anyway? Words were useless after such a visceral, all-consuming union. Their eyes conveyed emotions much deeper than their lips could ever describe. And yet Bella heard another clumsy cadence come out of her mouth, like some part of her was hell-bent on breaking the intimate spell they'd created.

"That fill-from-the-ceiling feature is pretty cool." She lifted her pony-tailed head to glance at the overhead spigot which had filled the pedestal tub with a thin waterfall from above.

A tiny crease formed between Edward's eyes. He reached for her hands, which were wrapped around her knees just beneath the water's surface. She let go and took his hands instead, letting him pull her across the tub to cradle her on his lap. She slid one arm around his neck and rested the other hand on his chest beneath the bubbles. He searched her face intently for a moment.

"Bella, did I hurt you? Be honest with me."

Her eyes widened. "No. You didn't," she assured him, shaking her head. "Not at all."

He gave her a faint grin. "I didn't think so, but you scared me for a second there. I don't want things to get awkward between us. You have to tell me if I do anything you're not comfortable with."

"But that's why I came to you in the first place - because I wanted you to pull me out of my comfort zone. Get me to try things I never thought I would; have experiences I never dreamed of. It's one of my favorite things about you." Her fingers played with the wet hair curling on the back of Edward's neck, and a wry smile twisted her lips. "But every time I'm with you, I understand more and more why you're such a popular escort. Why you make such good money."

Edward stiffened, leaning back to look Bella in the eyes. "What are you saying? You think that what we've shared here tonight is typical? Just another date night for me?" His accompanying laugh was incredulous, bordering on offended.

"No, that's not what I meant. I just mean . . . you're _good_ at what you do. Like, mind-blowing, earth-shaking, 3D Technicolor, screaming-orgasm good."

His laughter multiplied, crinkling the skin around his eyes and making him look like a little boy for a second. "Bella, it's only like that for us because of how we feel about each other. Without the emotion, the rest is just . . ." he searched for the right descriptor. "Mechanical. Like a well-choreographed ballet with no music. Enjoyable, but hollow. No heart or soul. Forgettable." He pulled her closer, pressing his lips to her cheek. "You brought the music to me. The heart, the soul. My unforgettable girl."

His lips found hers then, tender and convincing. How many men thought like he did, that loveless sex was empty? Maybe that was the one good thing that had come of his years as an escort - he'd lost interest in casual sex.

"I'm a pretty lucky girl," she murmured between kisses. "I'm not sure how many guys your age share your philosophy."

He shrugged and gave her that lopsided grin. "Well, they're idiots."

She giggled and nodded. "Some of them are, yeah."

"Speaking of idiot males, you never did tell me how your pre-birthday party went last night. Did you have a good time?"

"Hey, be nice," she scolded gently. "It was fine. Nothing like tonight, of course."

"I should hope not," he replied with a smirk.

"I don't think anything could top tonight. Or any night I spend with you," she said softly, her foot gliding down his shin under the water. "But it was pretty fun. It got better when Alice and Jasper showed up."

"Alice told me they put a stealth operation in motion to rescue you from your ex-boyfriend." He sounded mildly annoyed, or like he was fishing for more information.

"They did. It worked great, for a little while." She thought back to Mike's date invitation, deliberating if she should tell Edward about it. She decided not to open that can of worms. After all, she certainly didn't want to hear about any of his job-related interactions with other girls.

"Mike's not that bad," she said with a shrug. "He just needs to get over his crush on me. I tried to suggest that he show a little more interest in a mutual friend of ours from high school, because I think she still has a crush on him. I'm not sure it worked, though. And honestly, she's been so bitchy lately, I'm beginning to think he could do better."

"Sounds like you still have a soft spot for the guy." Bella couldn't tell if his remark was accusatory or simply observational.

"Well, if by 'soft spot' you mean I still care about what happens to him, then I suppose I do," she admitted. "I like having him for a friend. He makes me laugh. He's good at keeping my mind occupied . . . you know, on those nights when I spend most of my time trying not to wonder what you're doing."

There was definitely a little accusation there, but she couldn't help it. She was in too deep to ignore Edward's occupation for much longer. Even if he could manage to keep from sleeping with his clients, she still didn't like the time he spent with them any more than he liked the thought of her turning to Mike for company.

Edward was pretty sure she didn't mean for her words to inflict such a stinging wound, but he felt it in the pit of his stomach, sharp and precise. It was a stab of jealousy over another guy's success where he had failed her. Or worse yet, comfort where he had caused her pain. But he knew he had no right to begrudge her finding solace in someone else when he couldn't be there. He couldn't object to her friendships with other guys, because he had no leg to stand on. Hell, he couldn't even blame Mike for wanting more from her. He could only compliment the bastard on his good taste.

"Bella, you don't need to worry about what I'm doing with anyone else. I told you, I haven't been sleeping with my clients."

"But how long can you keep it up? No pun intended," she retorted with a mirthless grin.

"Forever," was his instant response. "That's how I feel. I don't intend to let sex be a part of my job anymore. And even if I did, it wouldn't mean a damned thing to me. Mechanical, remember? Any interaction I have with clients can't touch what we have. It's not possible."

He hated the doubt that lingered in her eyes; in her voice when she spoke. "I want to believe that, more than anything. It's so easy when I'm with you, like nothing else exists. But when we're apart . . . I start having all these crazy fears. And I hate it. I hate being so insecure. Even if you were completely free to be with me, I wouldn't want to be one of those crazy girlfriends who has to keep tabs on you every minute, and gets jealous over every girl you talk to."

"You have no reason to be." He lifted one sudsy hand to her neck, rubbing his thumb along her jaw. "I don't know how to make you believe it. I can tell you until I'm blue in the face, but I know it means nothing until I back it up with my actions. And I will, if it's the last thing I do. I'm going to prove myself you."

Bella nodded, searching his face and finding the conviction she needed. "I'll try to be patient. Just promise me you'll do the same for me. I'll remember your dates for work mean nothing, if you promise to remember that my dates with friends have nothing to do with how I feel about you."

Edward flinched slightly. "Meaning, if you want to spend time with your ex, or the pothead, or the naked art class model, or any other guy who gets a hard-on for you, I should just let it slide. Is that it?"

"I am not going out with the naked model," she assured him with a grunt of distaste. "But yeah, basically, if you want me to trust you, you have to trust me in return."

Edward tried to keep his sneer in check. "I do trust you. It's the idiot males I don't trust."

"You don't have to trust them. I'd never let anything go too far," she declared.

Edward blanched at her naivete. "Christ, Bella. You've got to be careful. Some guys don't take 'no' for an answer. That's what I'm worried about."

Bella sighed. "You sound like my dad. Don't worry - he's made sure I carry around a can of pepper spray at all times, so he's way ahead of you."

"I think I'd like to meet your father someday," Edward answered with his usual lopsided grin. "Sounds like my kind of guy."

"Oh, God. I can't even think about that. Not until we make up some kind of alibi to disguise how we actually met. He can never, _ever_ know about that."

"You don't have to ask me twice. There are definitely a few things that need to stay between you and me."

"Quite a few things," she agreed with a sly smile. He returned it, and their eyes completed the conversation.

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Bella felt incredibly relaxed after their bath. She stifled a yawn as Edward dried her off, knowing that she must be tired if his touch only soothed her instead of exciting her. When he helped her into in the plush, hotel-issued robe, she felt even more cared for than the first night he had wrapped her it its warmth. She closed her eyes and smiled, letting him tie the robe closed just as before.

Edward smiled down at her drowsy face, her eyelashes grazing her cheeks for several seconds before raising to let her look up at him.

"I think maybe it's your bedtime, sleepy girl," he suggested, giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead.

"It's not that late," she protested, like a child who was afraid she'd miss the good part of the evening.

"Late enough. Didn't you have an early class this morning? Naked models and all?"

She chuckled at the tinge of sourness in his tone. "Yes, I did. And _she_ left her robe on this time, though it was hanging off one shoulder while she reclined on a couch."

"Ah. The demurely sexy pose. Maybe you'd like to demonstrate that for me," he said hopefully, gesturing toward the bed in the next room.

"I'd be happy to. But I'm afraid if I actually lie down, I'll be more asleep than sexy."

"You clearly have no idea how sexy you are when you're sleeping," he replied with his crooked grin, one eyebrow quirking to match.

"Ha! I doubt that. I couldn't be half as sexy as you. Even when you're snoring," she grumbled, giving him a light shove on his terry-cloth covered chest.

"I was just going to say the same about you," he said, the grin growing devilish.

"I do not snore!"

His laugh was indulgent. "Okay, sure. You don't snore. Girls never snore."

Her eyes widened with chagrin. "Seriously? I snore?"

His grin stretched wide enough to crinkle his eyes into twinkling slits. "Just a little. I wouldn't even call it snoring. More like . . . purring." He dropped his forehead to hers and pulled at the lapels of her robe, drawing her closer. "It's adorable. Honestly."

"Oh, good grief. Now I'll be afraid to fall asleep," she complained.

Edward pulled back enough to give her a severe look. "Are you kidding me? Now you're going to be self-conscious about what you do when you're _un_conscious?"

Bella blanched for a second, then broke into a rueful chuckle. "Sorry."

Edward shook his head, then gave her shoulders a gentle shake as well. "When are you going to realize that all those ridiculous self-imagined flaws of yours are the very things that make me crazy about you?"

She stared up at him in wonder that he didn't see the irony. "I guess I will when you do the same."

He stared back, then emitted his own rueful chuckle. "Point taken, Miss Swan." He sighed and ran his hands gently up and down her shoulders. "Let's not argue anymore. I think we're both a little tired." He nodded toward the bedroom. "Shall we?"

Bella nodded back, then turned and entered the room. The bedroom was as subdued and tasteful as the dining room was not, glowing softly in the light of several strategically placed candles. She could see two long-stemmed, blood-red roses laid between the pristine white pillows, and she smiled at their simple beauty.

"That wasn't an argument, by the way," she said to Edward over her shoulder as she approached the bed.

"No?" he replied, right on her heels.

"Definitely not. I remember the fights my mom and dad used to have when I was a kid, before they divorced. Trust me, you and I don't argue." She stopped and turned back to him when she got to the bed. "We discuss."

He nodded, stopping across from her and taking her hands in his. "I'm sorry you went through that. I was lucky - my parents were really happy together. The only disagreements they had were over trivial things. Nothing major. It must have been hard for you."

Bella shrugged. "Yeah, I guess. But I think I knew all along that my mom couldn't handle small-town living. She and Dad loved each other, but they didn't know how to make each other happy. They didn't want the same things out of life. I think my mom was too young when they got married. Although, I have to admit, I'm not sure she'd feel any different about it now that she's older, either. She eventually remarried a ballplayer, so she gets to travel all over the place with him."

Edward gave her a wan smile. "Maybe that's where you got your adventurous streak, then. From your mother."

"Oh, definitely. But I'm still not sure she'd approve of how I chose to end my virginity," she admitted, cringing slightly. "I'm really a lot more like my dad, most of the time. Maybe that's why he and I get along so well. We don't have to talk a lot - we just sort of let each other be."

Edward squeezed her hands in his. "Like I said, I'd like to meet them someday. See where you came from. It sounds like you inherited the best qualities of both of them."

She almost answered, "That's debatable," but she held her tongue. She simply smiled and let him be right.

She turned her attention to the bed beside them, its silk comforter turned down just below the snow-white shams. She let go of Edward's hands and reached for the roses that lay between the pillows.

"What, no rose petals strewn all over the bed?" she teased. She twirled the flowers beneath her nose and inhaled their delicate scent.

"There's a place for over-the-top, and a place for subtlety," he explained.

"So the dining room table is the place for wild sex, and the bedroom is the place for subtlety?" she asked with a snort.

"I'd say that's up to you," he replied with a half-grin.

Her answering grin was weak. "I don't think I can take any more over-the-top tonight," she admitted. "You wore me out."

His eyes crinkled again. "I'd tell you I'm sorry about that, but it would be a lie."

"I'm not sorry, either," she told him. "Not in the least."

"Good. That's a relief," he whispered, leaning in to give her a kiss on the temple. "Why don't you turn down the covers, and let's get some sleep."

"Okay." She turned and set the flowers on the nightstand, then pulled down the covers on the bed. She started at the sight of a flat, square object right below the pillows. She peered at it and quickly perceived that it was another gift, wrapped in pale yellow paper with blue ribbon, the exact shade her cake had been.

"Edward, what is this?" she exclaimed, picking up the small box and waving it at him.

"Beats me. I guess the maid knew it was your birthday, too."

Bella shook her head at his mischievous grin. "Maid, my ass," she muttered. "I can't believe you got me another present."

He made a noise of exasperation. "Can we please dispense with the protests? Just open it," he ordered impatiently.

She raised an amused eyebrow at him. "I love it when the real Edward Masen shows himself," she said. "This is for you, baby."

And with that, she tore the wrapping from the package as quickly and noisily as she could, flinging the ribbon and paper at him for good measure. He was still laughing and wadding it up while she ripped the lid from the box and tossed it on the bed. But when she pushed aside the lavender tissue paper within, she stopped short with a loud gasp.

They both held their breath as she took in the sight of the charm bracelet nestled inside the box. The bracelet itself was a delicate silver chain, but the charms attached glowed a deep, shiny gold in the candlelight.

Bella finally exhaled with the words, "It's beautiful." She pulled the piece of jewelry from the box and held it up, twisting it to and fro to let it sparkle.

Edward let out a breath of relief. "You like it?"

"I love it," was her instant reply. "It's so pretty." She sat down on the bed, laying the bracelet in her palm so she could study it more closely. "What do these designs mean?" she wondered aloud, fingering the bracelet with her other hand and examining the five gold charms attached.

"They're Celtic symbols," Edward explained as he sat down across from her. He reached out and gently took the bracelet from her. He began by pointing out the image of a circle intersected by a stylized cross. "This is a Celtic cross, which is the sign for faith." He turned the bracelet to the next charm. "The anchor symbolizes hope. The heart, of course, means love; and this Celtic knot is actually called a Triquetra, which stands for trinity." He turned the jewelry to display the last charm. "The four-leaf clover is pretty self-explanatory."

"It's beautiful," she repeated, feeling like she couldn't say it enough.

"I'm glad you like it." He fiddled with the delicate clasp until it opened. Bella followed his lead and held out her arm so he could put the bracelet around it and fasten the clasp. She twirled her wrist back and forth a few times, making the dangling charms sparkle once more in the candlelight. Suddenly the meaning of the symbols hit her and she gasped in surprise.

"It's like the poem on your bookmark!" she exclaimed. "The meanings for the four-leaf clover - faith, hope, love and luck."

"Right," he said with a smile. "That was my mother's favorite poem. My father knew that, of course. He had this made for her birthday the year I was born. He added the Triquetra specially. It usually stands for the holy trinity, but in this case he also meant it be a symbol of the three of us - our family."

Bella stared at him, shaking her head, holding her arm out to him once more. "Another heirloom? Edward, I can't accept this. Not with that kind of family history attached to it."

Edward's head was shaking now, too, in disbelief. How could she still fail to understand what she meant to him?

He wrapped his fingers around her bracelet-covered wrist and grasped it firmly, then stared intently into her eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and barely controlled.

"Bella. My mother is long gone. There is no one else I want wearing this but you. I had none of the things this bracelet represents until I met you. You're the one who gave me faith again - in myself, in you, in us. You gave me hope for a future I'd given up on completely. And you showed me what love was when I was sure I didn't deserve it - when I had nothing but hatred for myself. The day I met you was the luckiest day of my life. The day I understood exactly what that silly, rhyme-y old poem was about."

They both laughed at this, but it sounded more like a sob. Tears were already trickling down Bella's face, and welling in Edward's eyes. He gripped her wrist more tightly, pressing the charms against her skin, pushing their mark into her flesh. She barely noticed. She could only feel the sear of his eyes burning into hers and the velvet web of his words ensnaring her soul.

"_You_ are my good luck charm," he said. "My anchor. My religion. My heart."

She couldn't breathe. If she took a breath, she knew she would choke on it.

"I love you, Bella. Everything I have is yours. None of it means a damned thing without you."

She emitted a strangled sob, trying in vain to catch her breath. She was shaking, overwhelmed at the emotion flooding her. It was too much, this declaration - the one thing she couldn't let herself imagine in her fantasies about Edward or their relationship. But as soon as she heard him say the words, his voice quivering with the intensity of their meaning, she knew they were the ones she'd been waiting for. The ones she was afraid she'd never hear.

Her own voice came to life now, jumping at the chance to speak the words she'd been afraid she'd never get to say back. Words she hoped were the opposite of useless and clumsy.

"You have no idea what you've done for me," she said hoarsely. "How you brought me to life. Made me feel beautiful when I thought I was ugly. Made me whole when I was empty inside."

He frowned and one of his tears spilled over, running down his cheek. She could see that he didn't believe it, couldn't take credit for her awakening. But surely he had seen it, felt it, like the bloom unfolding from a tightly wound rosebud. She continued, desperate to convince him.

"I needed you just as much as you needed me. Wanted you in a way I was afraid I'd never want anyone. Loved you the way I always dreamed I could love someone. I love you, Edward. So much. So much."

And then the words were swallowed by his lips on hers, taking them back, returning them in kisses instead. The words had done their job. They retreated now, yet still infused every emotion, every action, with the gravity of their meaning. Each caress, each kiss, each look between Edward and Bella was intensified by the verbal expression of what had been there all along. The words gave birth to a symphony; their bodies the instruments, their hearts and souls the melody and harmony.

They came together in the music of love, a gorgeous ballet more meaningful than either of them had dared to hope for. Their weariness was gone; their doubt and worry had joined it. There was nothing in this moment but the crescendo of emotion between them, building to a euphoric climax of utter surrender to one another, and to themselves.

But the pinnacle was the grace note at the finish, sweeter than any they'd ever heard.

"I love you."

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><p><strong>A lot of you were waiting for those three little words . . . hope they didn't disappoint. :)<strong>

**I found myself using another music/sex/love analogy at the end. Shakespeare said it best: "If music be the food of love, play on."**

**Thank you all again for all the great feedback! I'm always touched and humbled that you would take the time to read, add, favorite and review my stories. I'm a pretty lucky girl, as Bella would say. ;)**

**Special thanks to my unofficial beta Cared for pre-reading, catching the glitches and giving great comments and advice. What would I do without you? *tackle-hugs***


	39. Chapter 39

**I can't thank you all enough for the beautiful comments you left after the last chapter. Is it wrong that I was excited to make some of you cry? I was crying a little as I wrote it, so I'm thrilled beyond measure that I was able to translate that feeling in words. That's all any of us writers are trying to do, at the end of the day.**

**As good as I was at answering Chapter 37 reviews, I was just as bad at replying to Chapter 38 reviews. I apologize for that. Please know your words truly touched me.**

**Instead of replies, I wrote Chapter 39 instead. Hope that will suffice. :)**

**Without further ado . . .**

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><p>The waiting room of Renaissance Escorts bore little resemblance to its owner.<p>

Decorated in soothing shades of soft pink and cream with rich brown accents, this room was designed to convey sheer romance at every turn. Seasonal fresh-cut flowers in clear glass bowls adorned every flat surface, gossamer curtains filtered the gray Seattle sunlight, and fluffy accent pillows made the pale velveteen couch and chairs even more welcoming. The room managed to be modern and elegant, yet warm and comforting at the same time.

Rosalie Hale was none of these things.

Well, to be fair, she did dress in the latest styles, Edward conceded as he sat stiffly in one of the comfy chairs. And she did have a certain elegance in her carriage and demeanor. But she exuded precious little warmth or reassurance to clients, despite her bright smile and encouraging words.

At least, this had been Edward's observation in his admittedly few personal interactions with his boss. He thought he'd seen a softening in her, though, since she and Emmett had become serious. Surely his friend's innate good nature had rubbed off on her, and his fiery enthusiasm must have melted some of that icy exterior. Edward was counting on finally seeing the softer side of Rosalie Hale today. After all, Emmett had suggested this meeting between them in the first place, insisting that Rose might surprise him.

Edward shifted in his chair, growing more irritated by the second. She had already made him wait outside her office for a good five minutes now. When he arrived punctually, Tanya had raised her eyes from her computer long enough to inform him that their boss was on the phone, but he had his doubts. Making him wait was a classic power play.

Fine. Two could play that game. He assumed she wanted to ruffle him; put him on the defensive. He wouldn't let her have the satisfaction. He just needed to keep his eyes on the prize: a future with Bella.

He closed his eyes for a moment and thought back to their morning together. His unhappy surprise at awaking cold and alone in the hotel bed had soon turned to delight when he'd spied her sitting in a chair she'd pulled up next to him, wrapped in a bathrobe, her new sketch pad and pencil in hand. He'd recognized them as the gifts Alice had picked out for her.

"_What are you doing?" he asked, stifling a yawn._

"_What does it look like?" she answered with a soft smile. "I'm trying to capture my new favorite subject."_

"_Too late. You already caught me," he informed her as he stretched his limbs a bit. "I just hope you don't throw me back."_

"_Not likely." Her sweet lips stretched into a devilish smirk. "I'm much more likely to stuff you and mount you."_

"_Funny, that's exactly what I had in mind for you," he shot back, grinning broadly. "Though not necessarily in that order."_

_He watched her drawing hand move rapidly over the paper in short strokes, apparently shading in the sketch. Her eyes darted back and forth between his face and the page, studying, deconstructing, then reassembling with the pencil between her fingers. He propped his head up on one elbow and watched her intently for a few minutes. She finally stopped and leaned back in the chair, holding the sketch pad away from her to better appraise her work._

"_Let me see," he begged._

_Her cheeks colored and she gave him a bashful look over the top of the sketch book. "It's not quite finished," she hedged. "You woke up right when I was getting all the details down."_

"_That's okay. I'm sure it's great."_

_She cringed a little. "Well, I tried. But I don't think I could ever truly capture how beautiful you are."_

_Her words shocked him into silence for a moment. He wanted to laugh at the notion, but something in her eyes sobered him. Last night, she told him that he'd made her feel beautiful when she thought she was ugly. Maybe it worked both ways._

_He sat up and reached his hand out to her. "Let me see through your eyes, then."_

_She bit her lip, then handed him the sketch book._

_He turned it so that he could see her rendering of him. Yes, that was him all right, face half-hidden in the pillow as he lay slumbering on his side, one naked shoulder pushed up to his ear, hand clutching the covers under his chin. Bella had drawn his likeness in soft, feathery strokes mixed with hard, precise lines. Each eyelash, each hair of his thick brows was perfectly defined; even the stubble overtaking the lower part of his face was a study in coarse, lifelike detail. But she had molded his features in muted shades of gray so smooth that his skin looked like flawlessly sculpted stone. _

_This was a highly idealized version of the face he saw in the mirror each morning. It bore a remarkable resemblance to him, but in truth, she had not captured how beautiful he truly was - she had made him far more so than his reflection ever proved. She had created a paragon of perfection that was nothing like the fallible flesh and blood man he knew himself to be._

_Was this how she saw him? How could he live up to an image such as this?_

"_You don't like it," she whispered._

_Edward looked up at her stricken face and quickly reassured her. "No, that's not true. It's amazing. You never give yourself enough credit. You are incredibly talented. And I am incredibly flattered." He glanced down at the skilled drawing, then gave her a rueful smile. "I just wish I could live up to this."_

_Her elation at his praise quickly fizzled. "What do you mean, live up to it?" _

"_It's just . . ." He paused and looked over the handsome guy sleeping so peacefully in Bella's sketch. "You were so worried about capturing my supposed beauty that you kind of went overboard. I mean, you made me look like a GQ model or something."_

_She didn't join him in his chuckling. "I drew what I saw," she defended herself quietly. _

_His smile faded. "That's what I'm afraid of. That you don't see me very clearly."_

_She shook her head sadly. "Did you ever think that maybe you're the one who doesn't see yourself clearly?"_

No. No, he didn't think that. He saw himself all too well. That was the problem.

"Ms. Hale will see you now." Tanya's nasal announcement jarred him from his reverie.

Edward rolled his eyes at her formality. "Thank you," he said curtly as he rose from the velvet chair and strode toward the gold-handled white door of Rosalie Hale's inner sanctum.

The interior of this space suited its inhabitant much better. Varying shades of ice blue and cool aqua permeated the glass-and-chrome-filled room, matching the glacial smile frozen upon Rosalie Hale's face.

"Good morning, Edward," she greeted him from behind her glass-topped, snow-white desk. She didn't rise to meet him, but held out one hand so that Edward could reach over to shake it.

"Rosalie," he replied simply, taking a seat in the matching white chair facing the desk.

"You're looking well," she commented. She leaned her elbows on the desk and pressed her fingertips together, reminding Edward of a blonde praying mantis.

"As are you. Lovely as always," he added for good measure. It was no lie. His boss was what most people would call a stunner, a voluptuous blonde with a toothpaste commercial smile and round, iris-colored eyes. The pale blue blouse she now wore made them all the more vivid as they gave him a dispassionate once-over.

Her smile deepened at the corners, dimpling her smooth, peach skin. The iris eyes were calculating despite the warmth of the smile below them. She appraised him the way one might judge a stallion for suitable stud service.

"Every time I see you, I'm reminded why you're so popular with our clients. You're almost prettier than they are . . . but not quite. You have just enough ruggedness to entice them, and just enough boyishness to disarm them. Not to mention commendable seduction skills, by all accounts."

Edward tried not to wince at her assessment. It was a little too close to the one Bella had given him last night.

"I would hate to lose you," Rosalie continued, cutting right to the chase. Her eyes seemed to search his for clues as to his intentions. "I think we've enjoyed a mutually beneficial arrangement for the past couple of years, and I value it highly. I hope you feel the same."

Edward shifted in his seat, hoping his discomfort wasn't as evident as he feared. He worked on keeping his congenial poker face intact.

"We've had a great run," he conceded. "That I won't deny. I appreciate the opportunities you gave me more than you know."

"I know plenty, actually," she informed him. "I had a pretty good idea why you came to me from the start, you know. Emmett was kind enough to fill in the blanks."

"Was he?" Edward couldn't help but bristle. He should have known his friend's first loyalty would be to his new live-in girlfriend. But how much had he revealed?

"Don't worry, he hasn't betrayed your confidences," she assured him. "He just gave me a little heads up about your financial situation, that's all. I always guessed some family crisis forced you into this career choice. You obviously aren't in it for the ego gratification or your love of women, though I don't doubt your respect for the fairer sex. Which explains a good part of your success."

"I would hope all of your employees have a healthy respect for women."

"That's the plan. I screen them as best I can. The proof is usually in the pudding, so to speak. If an escort doesn't generate any repeat business, he won't last long around here."

Edward squirmed again. He took a deep breath and crossed his legs the other direction, then gave his boss a winsome smile. If she was about to give him an ultimatum, he wished she would come out with it.

Instead, she studied him coolly for a moment. She looked like she was waiting for something. He wished to God he knew what it was.

Finally, she leaned forward and crossed her arms on the desk. "You're awfully quiet this morning, Edward. You called this meeting. You must have something you want to get off your chest, so let's hear it."

His smile turned wry. She was tossing the ball in his court. Fair enough, he was the one who had called her. He had just never expected her to stay mum about the complaints she must have received about his recent performance, or lack thereof.

"I guess I came here because I owe you an explanation. I'm sure my reviews have been . . . mixed, lately. I know I haven't been leaving my clients satisfied in the way some of them might prefer."

Rosalie's eyebrow raised, but she remained silent. Edward cleared his throat to continue.

"And that particular dissatisfaction is likely to continue. There are certain expectations I will no longer be able to fill as a Renaissance Escorts employee," he said carefully.

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "And what expectations are those, Edward?"

He emitted a short laugh. "You really want me to say it? Out loud?"

"Why not? Are you wearing a wire?" she retorted. "Unless you're about to tell me you're an undercover cop, I don't think there's anything we can't discuss here."

His laugh was genuine this time. "You know I'm not a cop. You can search me for a wire if you want."

"Tempting, but there's no need," she replied with a grin. "Just come out and say it. You don't want to fuck women for money anymore."

He gaped at her for a moment, surprised not at her candor, but at her apparent calm. "Okay. I don't want to fuck women for money anymore. I can't."

Edward slumped back in his chair as if a ten-ton weight had just been lifted from his shoulders. Unfortunately, his boss looked a bit as if it had just fallen on her.

She nodded slowly, raising one arm to rest her chin on her hand. "And when did you come to this epiphany?"

"A couple of weeks ago, I guess. I just got to the point where I couldn't do it anymore." He looked at Rosalie's slight frown and added, "I'm sorry. I should have been upfront with you then."

She appeared as if she was lost in thought for a moment. "I am curious as to what brought about this change. Even though I knew your heart was never in this business, you were always able to put aside any personal reservations and provide the fantasy our customers were looking for. That's what I always heard, over and over. 'He knows just what I need. He makes a good impression in public, and an even better one in private.'" She paused, her lips twisting in a wistful smile. "You always tuned right in to whatever they wanted and needed. What made you tune out?"

He was surprised at how easily the answer came. "I found someone who tuned in to me. So I let her. She was what _I_ wanted and needed. And I hadn't considered that in a very long time."

Rosalie regarded him thoughtfully, drumming her fingers along her jaw a couple of times. "Was she a customer? Not that it matters. Or is any of my business."

Edward nodded. "Bella." He spoke it with a reverence that was not lost on his boss.

"Oh, is she the one who lost the earring, and you were so anxious to give it back to her in person?"

His nod confirmed it. "Surprised the hell out of me. I never saw her coming. Never imagined that kind of complication in my life. Now I can't imagine my life without it."

Rosalie's smile was wry. "Occupational hazard, I suppose. Though I think most people in our line of work have little trouble separating business from their personal lives." She leaned back in her chair then, letting out a sigh. "But maybe that's not true. Who in this business isn't doing it for personal reasons, of one kind or another? They need the money, or they're looking for something. Maybe escaping something." Her eyes hardened for a moment, and she reached for a mug of coffee resting on a nearby electric warmer. "Can I get you a cup?" she offered, reverting back to her usual emotionless smile.

"No, thanks." Edward studied the mask of pleasantry over her rigid posture, and he wondered what nerve had just been struck.

"Well, I fell into the first category," he said. "I needed the money. What about you? How did you end up here, Rosalie?"

She didn't seem affronted by his audacity. She merely gave him that humorless grin again before taking a couple sips of coffee and returning the mug to her desk. "I'm sure a shrink would have a heyday with me and my motivations. Why did I become a madam?" she pondered aloud, her tone almost mocking. "I enjoy the money, but I can't say that was my primary motivation. I would say control is what attracted me to it the most. Control, with maybe a little slice of revenge on the side. Revenge is a dish best served cold, you know."

Edward frowned at her, wanting to probe further, but unsure he was ready to hear the rest of her story.

Her smile was brittle, her voice eerily calm. "Of course, I'll never have revenge on the ones who really deserve it. I'd have to be able to remember who they are for that. I barely remember what they did to me. Rohypnol - or whatever they slipped in my drink - has that unfortunate side effect."

Edward's eyelids squeezed shut in denial for a second. He felt sick. "Bastards," he hissed under his breath. He opened his eyes and looked into hers - really looked at her for the first time. "You should have reported it. The cops could have found them. Made them pay."

"Maybe," Rose answered doubtfully. "I'm sure I should have done a lot of things. Admitted that it even happened. Reported it. Gone for counseling sooner than I did. But when you're young and naïve, you worry that you brought it on yourself by sneaking out of your parents' house to go to a college party you didn't tell them about. You're afraid that no one will believe you. That they'll label you a slut for the rest of your high school career. So you ignore it and hope it will go away. It never really does, of course. And then, eventually, that festering inner trauma might manifest itself in a career choice that allows you to control men and their sexual habits like puppets on strings, while keeping yourself safe from their advances.

"Until the day, of course, that someone gets past your armor and under your skin. Someone who actually makes you want his advances instead of fearing them. Someone who makes you jealous of every woman you ever made him dance for." She paused again, her eyes far away. A soft smile had replaced her sneer. Edward knew that Emmett had put that smile there. Emmett, with his imposing features and intimidating stature, hiding a heart of gold.

"I had no idea," Edward said quietly. "I always tried to understand what the attraction was between you two, but he never let on. Never alluded to anything like what you went through. I'm so sorry, Rosalie. Truly."

"Don't be. It was years ago. I knew Emmett would never spill my secrets. He's as trustworthy as the day is long. I had to work at him for two years to get him to reveal even an inkling of what was going on with you. I still don't know anything beyond a sick grandmother, a big house and a lot of bills. But it was enough to know you wouldn't last in this business.

"Still, I hoped to get more out of you than two years," she said regretfully. "You could have been a successful escort for many years to come. You're not even twenty-five - you haven't peaked yet. Not even close."

He huffed a small, perfunctory laugh. "That's flattering, I suppose." His expression turned grim. "So that's it, then? You're letting me go?"

Her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Isn't that why you're here? To give your notice?"

"Yes. And no." He raked his hand anxiously through his hair. "I'd like to stay on a bit longer, if the sex isn't a deal breaker."

Her forehead creased in confusion. "I don't understand. What are you proposing?"

He took a deep breath. "The truth is, I need the money for a little while longer. I have an opportunity that may get me back into playing music, which was always my first love; but it's over a month away. I'd like to give more than two weeks' notice, if you'd be willing to keep me on the payroll."

He swallowed back the bile that had risen in his throat. He hated asking her for an extension like that. He hated that he needed to.

Rosalie was still frowning when she replied. "I'd love nothing more than to keep you on the payroll, Edward. But you've kind of put me between a rock and a hard place here. As you're fully aware, I can't require you to provide sex to our customers, any more than I can promise it to them. I like keeping this business on the right side of the law, at least as far as technicalities go. But bad word of mouth is a killer for me. If word gets around that my escorts don't deliver, you'd best believe our clients will find ones who do. How can I in good conscience schedule you for dates when I risk losing every single one of those women if they were after a service you no longer provide?"

Edward grimaced, sighing in frustration. "You know your clientele better than anyone else does. Schedule me on dates with the least likelihood of sex being involved. Social functions, parties, reunions. A lot of women don't want anything more than a public appearance, and you know I'm more than up to that challenge."

He cringed at the desperation that had crept into his voice. He despised being beholden to anyone, and the piteous look on his boss's face only made it worse. First Charlotte, now Rosalie. If he had a scrap of savings in the bank to live on, he would get up and walk out of this office right now.

Rosalie sighed and turned to the laptop computer on her desk, pulling up Edward's schedule for the month. "This coming weekend should be fairly safe - a business dinner Friday, then another reunion Saturday. I had planned to send you to Portland next weekend," she informed him as she scrolled through the calendar. "Your regulars there are missing you. But I know _why_ they're missing you, so that's problematic, at best."

He knew exactly to whom she was referring, and she was right. She pressed her lips together and scrolled some more. "Well, if I skip the Portland trip, I can send you to another one of those silly college parties instead. I had some U-Dub sorority girl call just yesterday, quite insistent that you be the one to escort her to a big Greek system gala at the Four Seasons. That sounds like a 'make my ex-boyfriend jealous' occasion if I've ever heard one."

Edward smiled in relief. "Definitely. I'm sure I can handle that one."

Rosalie looked up at him, her own smile now a genuine one. He thought this might be the first time he'd seen a glimpse of the real Rosalie Hale, and it was an eye opener. He should have trusted Emmett's choice in women a little better.

"All right, then. We'll play it by ear for now," she offered. "No expectations, but no guarantees, either. I'll do my best to make this work for both of us a little while longer. If it doesn't, maybe I can come up with a severance package that will alleviate your worries a little."

"Thanks," Edward said quietly, humbly. "I appreciate that."

The two were rising from their chairs and shaking hands when Tanya's voice interrupted from the phone intercom on Rosalie's desk.

"James Hunter is here to see you."

Rose pressed her finger to the intercom and replied, "Send him in." Then, to Edward she added, "Maybe this is a good thing. You're leaving some very lucrative regulars in the lurch, but something tells me James will be more than happy to help pick up the slack."

Edward knew he should have been thrilled at the prospect. But when his fellow escort graced them both with a smarmy grin upon entering the room, Edward felt some misgivings. Despite the Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man demeanor, something about James Hunter struck him as disingenuous, at best. He remembered Emmett calling the guy a weasel, but he'd seemed more worried about Felix than James. Edward just hoped that Rosalie's stringent screening process hadn't missed something in either one of them.

"The infamous Edward Cullen," James said, holding his hand out in greeting. Edward resisted wiping his palm on his pants after their handshake. "Good to finally meet you."

"Likewise," Edward replied, forcing a smile. "Though I'm not sure what I'm infamous for."

"Really?" James exclaimed, his incredulity sounding almost genuine. "Surely you know how legendary you are at this agency. No one has reached your level of popularity with the ladies at such a young age. You leave the rest of us fighting over your scraps just to eke out a living."

Edward recoiled inwardly at the man's callousness. "I'm sure you exaggerate," he said. Before James could offer a rebuttal, he turned to their boss.

"Thanks again, Rosalie. For everything. You won't regret it."

She nodded and gave him another rare genuine smile. Edward watched it morph quickly to rigid plastic as she brightly greeted Mr. Hunter and asked him to have a seat.

.

.

Edward's thoughts were consumed with Bella as he drove out of the downtown parking garage and headed for Charlotte's estate. He was still trying to reconcile himself to the truth of the portrait Bella had drawn of him earlier, as inaccurate as it looked to his own judgmental eyes. James's absurd statements about his "legendary" status at Renaissance Escorts made him wonder if Bella was right - that he didn't see himself clearly.

He saw himself through the lens of familiarity. There was obviously a reason the idiom "familiarity breeds contempt" existed, since fault-finding was his first reaction when forced into self-examination.

This James Hunter character apparently saw him through the eyes of envy. Well, that wouldn't last much longer. Mr. Not-So-Sensitive Ponytail Man would soon be the happy beneficiary of Edward's impending resignation from the world of escorting.

So would Bella, and that was all he really cared about. He was one step closer to the life he wanted. And when he thought of what she meant to him what she did for him, it hit him again exactly how she saw him.

She saw him through the eyes of love.

He knew very well how that filter altered everything. Every perception, every desire, every goal. Love made him feel more, want more, try harder. Love made the effort worth it. Bella made everything worth it.

He'd come to that realization earlier, looking at that sketch she'd drawn of him. Much like her poem, it suddenly became the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen expressed on a piece of paper.

She'd drawn him in the image of her love for him.

He replayed their morning together once more, starting where he had left off before his meeting with Rosalie.

_He blinked back the moisture gathering in the corners of his eyes as he looked up at Bella. He laid the sketch book on the bed and reached over to grab her hand, pulling her toward him. She happily traded the chair for the bed, sitting down beside him. He took her face in his hand and traced his thumb over her features. His feelings for her painted her in incomparable beauty to him._

"_I love how you see me." He paused, running his fingers over her deliciously plump lower lip. "I love you," he said for at least the twentieth time since he'd first uttered the words last night. They still had not lost their luster or their novelty. He still felt the thrill of those three syllables as intensely as the first time._

_She seemed to feel it, too. She said it back, immediately; and then they dissolved in another kiss. How many kisses had they shared in the last twenty-four hours? Their lips should be raw. But their hunger was insatiable, so they continued to taste one another. She claimed she missed the taste of him in her mouth - it was the one of the few sexual acts they hadn't engaged in last night. The next thing he knew, she was kissing her way down his torso, licking and nipping the soft skin of his belly until she reached the stiffening skin of his cock. Her mouth and hands took him the rest of the way there in no time._

"_I love watching you get hard for me," she whispered, her breath hot on his sex. Her eyes were that magical mixture of love and lust as they met his. "I love the way it feels."_

_She wrapped her fingers around his length and flicked her tongue around his swelling head before pressing it into his slit._

"_If you want me hard, then let me see you," he murmured, pushing the terry cloth from her shoulders. She quickly undid the tie on the robe and shrugged it off, her back arching and bare breasts rising as she did so. His cock bounced upward in response, and they both laughed. The laughter stopped when she leaned forward and pressed it between her breasts, squeezing them around it so he could pump its length up and down her breastbone. She tucked her chin and began lapping at the tip of his cock with her tongue every time he thrust, until finally he gave up and simply plunged into her mouth, groaning when she opened her throat to swallow him deep. _

_She continued teasing him this way for what seemed like an eternity, yet still passed in the blink of an eye. Her mouth and hands were everywhere, licking, sucking, stroking. She wrapped her lips around his sac, pulling one ball at a time into her mouth and sucking rhythmically until she made him moan. Then she cupped one hand beneath them, massaging the root of his cock while taking the rest in her mouth, pushing her lips down as she pushed his balls up. She continued massaging and deep-throating him this way until he was close to erupting. He warned her, as he always did; and she responded only by stilling her lips around him to allow the exquisite release of his seed deep in her mouth. And then, while he gasped and tortured her hair between his fingers, she opened her mouth and let his cum pour out, rolling down the length of him while she lapped it back up and swallowed. _

_He could find no words to tell her how hot that was; what the sight of it did to him. How could he tell her how much he loved her after she'd sucked him off, without it sounding like he was only appreciative of the blow job? How could he ever describe how much more it meant - how much more _she_ meant - than that? He'd felt it the first time she ever went down on him. It was the first time she'd done that to any man, and she chose him. It was an honor, a privilege, as much now as it was then. Maybe more so, now that the novelty was gone. She still chose him. Still wanted to please him. Still loved him._

_He gazed at Bella's graphite version of Sleeping Beauty after she left him to get a glass of water. The sketch on the bed next to him taunted him, mocking him somehow. Her vision of him was peaceful. Calm. He rarely felt that way. One worry or another had nagged at him for as long as he could remember. _

_But maybe he was finally finding peace in her. He felt a semblance of it now, settling in his bones as the euphoria of his climax dissipated._

"_Here, I thought you might want one, too." He looked up to see Bella approaching with two glasses of water. She handed one to him as she sat down next to him on the bed._

"_Thank you," he said, his voice coming out a whisper. He looked into her curious brown eyes, and knew his own must be heavy with the countless emotions he couldn't put names to. He had to put a voice to them, somehow, even if the words felt short._

"_No one has ever made me feel the way you make me feel. I love you . . . But it's so much more than that." He reached out to touch her hair, to comb through the silky, messy strands. "You're the most beautiful thing in the world to me."_

_She bit her lip slightly, in that way he loved so much. Then she nodded in understanding, and he knew she got it. Felt it, deep inside, the way he did._

He set his jaw in determination as he drove toward Charlotte's and the Steinway awaiting him. His life still swirled with unknowns; uncertainties that made true peace of mind elusive. But there was one thing he did know for sure.

He would spend the rest of his life making sure Bella Swan saw herself the way he did_._

_._

_._

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><p><strong>I stole, er borrowed, "Mr. Sensitive Ponytail Man" from Cameron Crowe's movie "Singles." And oldie but a goodie, and set in Seattle, quite fittingly.<strong>


	40. Chapter 40

**Once again I must apologize for not answering all the wonderful reviews you so generously left for my last chapter. I've been putting all my writing energy into the story as of late. I figure I'd better follow that elusive muse when it strikes!**

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><p>Bella chose her usual easel, greeted her classmates on either side, got out her art supplies and waited.<p>

She clutched her double espresso in both hands and sipped it nervously. She knew there was no point in being nervous. She wasn't even sure what she was nervous about. Sure, this was Thursday, but so what? That didn't automatically mean the blond ponytail guy would be today's model, just because he was last Thursday. And even if he was, the art instructor always made sure the models faced different directions each time, so that the students would have different viewpoints of the body as they drew. She wouldn't have to look him in the eye, or any other parts, this time.

She took a deep, cleansing breath as the instructor entered the room; it caught in her throat when she saw Jackass James right on his heels.

Shit.

She gnawed at her lip as she watched the model disappear behind a large screen at the back of the room to disrobe. Meanwhile, the professor dragged a stool to the center of the circle of easels.

"Today our model will recreate a famous pose for us - that of Auguste Rodin's 'The Thinker.' The statue was originally called Le Poète, and was part of a portal commissioned by the Musée Des Artes Decoratifs. Rodin called the portal _The Gates of Hell_, based upon the characters of Dante's _The Divine Comedy_. Some believe 'The Thinker' was a depiction of Dante himself, as he pondered his epic poem; while others believe Rodin's inspiration harkens back to the tradition of Michelangelo's heroic figures, who reflected intellect as well as physicality. . ."

The instructor's words faded to a buzzing drone in Bella's ears as James reappeared in the same blue bathrobe as last week, then strode to the stool in the middle of the room. He didn't look at her. He didn't look at anyone, actually. Still, she didn't let out a sigh of relief until he was seated in profile before her, facing far to her left, staring at the floor in imitation of The Thinker's pensive pose.

Drawing Jackass James proved to be much easier when he was unable to give her so much as an errant glance. Within minutes, Bella had reduced him to a mental abstraction: an intricate network of bone, muscle and connective tissue outlined beneath smooth, pale skin. She liked when she was able to get lost in the work like this. Like many artists, she called it "the zone." Time ceased to have meaning there; hours could pass in the blink of an eye. She experienced the same phenomenon when she began to play with words, trying to convey a thought or evoke a feeling by stringing them together in just the right way.

She'd felt this way yesterday morning while drawing Edward, though the task was more daunting because of her love for the subject matter. She had found it more difficult to reduce him to the simpler elements of shape and shade than she normally would. She had difficulty seeing him as anything less than the whole, a sum much greater than its parts. How could she recreate that sum if she couldn't dissect it in the usual fashion?

She thought back to the first time she'd studied him, the night they met. She had sat across the hotel dining room table from him and sought out his physical imperfections in an effort to boost her own fragile ego. But now when she thought of that table, her first memory was overtaken by the more recent ones. A kaleidoscope of visions, sounds and sensations danced through her head, a different emotion washing over her with each one. The effect was more like music, a swirl of colorful rhythm and melody, than a two-dimensional picture in black and white. But she endeavored to capture it all the same, to recreate with pencil the living, breathing glory of the man she loved.

She had no such difficulty today. There was no music in this classroom. Just an assignment to be completed, and Bella treated it as such.

As she dutifully copied the form of the model before her, she couldn't help but notice the more obvious differences between him and Edward. James was shorter and more compact, his muscles a little bulkier and perhaps more defined. She had yet to attempt Edward's entire figure in pencil, but her fingers itched to capture the shape of his musculature, stretched long and lean by his superior height. His face was more poetic as well, his features aristocratic where James' were broader, more mundane.

Despite the physical disparity, Bella knew the real difference lay far beneath. Edward's true beauty lay in his soul, reflected in the loving, yearning gaze of his blue-green eyes. She had no desire to feel James' eyes on her. She remembered their leer all too well.

To his credit, he kept them trained on the floor as he rested his chin on his curled fist, his body bent over in the pose of The Thinker. She wondered what kinds of thoughts went through a mind such as his, and a slight shiver shot down her spine.

The professor strolled around the room several times throughout the class, providing occasional instruction. He complimented Bella on the fluidity of her lines and her use of shading to portray the contrast of light and shadow playing on the model's body. She was pleased at the compliments, and with her work, despite the subject matter. When class came to an end, she quickly averted her eyes so that she would not have to witness whether or not James had a public erectile problem today.

The professor asked the students to leave their sketch pads on their easels and make sure their names were written on the cover, as he planned to study and grade their work before the next class. Bella had already marked all of her supplies at the beginning of the semester in the event that they were lost or stolen. As she gathered her charcoal and pencils, she spied the telltale blue bathrobe out of the corner of her eye. Apparently James was eying the drawings of himself again, the arrogant prick. She hurried to close her sketch book before he approached, but she wasn't quick enough. His hand shot out to stop the pages, holding them open while he gave her drawing a once-over.

"Nice," he commented, once again sounding like the soul of sincerity despite the hard glint in his eyes as they bored into hers. "I like how you see me."

She said nothing as he closed the cover of her book. After a quick glance at her signature, he added, ". . . Bella Swan."

The shudder down her spine was palpable this time as he grinned and walked away. He'd uttered the same sentiments as Edward had yesterday, but never had the difference between the two men been more glaring.

.

.

.

Edward's nerves coiled into an all-too familiar knot in the pit of his stomach as he approached the entry to Tranquility Gardens.

Though the place was aptly named, its cottage-like architecture and beautifully kept grounds did little to ease his anxiety. He knew this facility was an idyllic setting for his grandmother to spend her final years, and he was grateful for the care he'd been able to provide her as her Alzheimer's worsened.

It was the disease itself that seized Edward in its death grip every Thursday when he came to visit. How much of Emily would remain today? How much of her would that ugly disease allow to shine through its icy fingers? For she was the one the beast held captive, devouring her slowly, one precious brain cell at a time.

He took a deep breath of fresh air before entering the residence, but it only served to make the stale, medicinal odor within more unpleasant. Why did all nursing homes smell this way? - a combination of cafeteria food, urine and disinfectant, as if the effort to sanitize every surface never quite caught up with the relentless pollution of failing bodily functions.

He said hello to the wheelchair-bound man sitting near the entryway, looking out the window. The man's vacant stare indicated he hadn't heard, or was unable to respond. He dreaded the day his grandmother reached that point of incapacity.

Edward stopped at the front office, checking in to see how Emily was doing today so he would know what to expect. The administrative assistant rang the nurse on duty in her wing, and she came to meet him with a report, like always. She filled him in as they headed toward his grandmother's room.

"She's doing well today so far," the nurse said with an encouraging smile. "She's knows it's Thursday, and she's looking forward to your visit. She has her pictures all laid out, in case she forgets; but I don't think she'll need them today."

"Really? That's great," Edward said in relief. He hated the days when it took her a few minutes to figure out who he was. Worse yet were the occasional times she couldn't seem to remember him at all, speaking mostly of her youth and family members long gone. The enjoyment he normally would have derived from hearing her stories was diminished by the fact that she thought these events had just happened yesterday, not sixty years ago.

But today, the woman who greeted Edward in her small but comfortably furnished room had the wonderful sparkle of recognition in her green eyes.

"Edward, my sweet boy," she said with a smile, holding out her arms.

"Good morning, Em," he said, his smile even bigger than hers as he stooped over to give her a hug. He was struck anew at how she had shrunk; how frail she now seemed in his arms. She had always been short, but also stout and robust. Now her shoulders drooped, and she walked with the telltale shuffle of a woman who suffered from arthritis throughout much of her body. But in those increasingly rare moments when her mind was sharp, her beaming face could still light up the entire room.

"How are you today?" he asked her, helping her into her recliner before sitting down on the loveseat next to it.

"Oh, I'm doing okay," she replied, wincing slightly as she settled into her chair. "This damned hip of mine is acting up, but that's nothing new."

"Did the nurse give you anything for it?" Edward's brows furrowed slightly.

"Eh, just some Tylenol. They've got me doped up enough on all those memory-enhancing drugs, you know. Not that they do any good, but I suppose they're better than nothing."

"I think they've helped you," he disagreed. "You didn't need your flashcards to figure out who I was today."

She didn't take offense; he knew she wouldn't when she was lucid. She only laughed and nodded toward the end table between them. Spread across its surface were neatly labeled photographs of Edward, Alice, and all four of their deceased parents. "No, but I've got them here for later, in case I nod off and wake up to find a stranger in the room."

Their laughter was cut short by the pain of the truth behind her words.

"I have a surprise for you," he said. "Alice is coming to have lunch with us today, between classes. She told me you two had a nice visit last weekend, so she was anxious to come see you again."

"Last weekend . . . ?" Emily trailed off, her eyes uncertain as she tried to retrieve the memory.

"Yes, on Sunday," he reminded her gently. "She took you on a walk through the gardens because it was such a nice day."

"The gardens . . . Oh yes, yes, she did," Emily exclaimed, relief relaxing her features. "My leg wasn't bothering me so much and it wasn't raining, I remember. But now, how is she leaving high school to come see me on a week day?"

"Alice is a freshman in college now, at UW. She has some time between classes so she can drive here to meet us."

"A freshman!" Emily shook her head, clearly irritated with herself. "I don't know why I can't remember that. Seems like yesterday she was just a little girl and I was trying to teach her how to bake cookies. She loved eating them, but making them? Not so much," she recalled with a chuckle.

"Well, she hasn't changed much in that respect. Although she did make breakfast for me and my girlfriend a couple of weeks ago, so that was a first." Edward halted, alarmed that he'd just admitted to not only having a girlfriend, but having a girlfriend who'd spent the night with him.

"Girlfriend?" his grandmother repeated, her eyes clouding with worry again. "Have I forgotten something else? Did you tell me about her before?"

"No, no I didn't," he quickly assured her. "I just met her about a month ago. You haven't forgotten anything - I haven't mentioned her before."

She nodded, but then frowned again. "Now, do I understand this right? You just met this young girl, but she's already spent the night in my house?"

Edward felt his neck grow hot, and he pulled at his collar a bit. "Ye-e-es," he said slowly. "She has. But, my intentions toward her are honorable, as they would have said in your grandmother's day. It's kind of serious between us." He paused and looked into Emily's eyes, as perceptive as his mother's had been. "I love her. I'm in love with her."

Her eyebrows raised, but she was silent for a moment. "In only a month?" she questioned. But then she smiled and said, "Well, yes, I suppose that is how it happens, isn't it? Like a lightning bolt, out of the clear blue. That's how it was between me and your grandfather. The man never had a lick of sense, and I knew I was just as big a fool to fall for him. But there's no stopping it. It just comes. The man bled me dry with his bad habits, but I loved him still, 'til the day he died and beyond."

She sighed, her eyes far away, apparently reliving the past for a moment. Edward waited to see if she would return, or if he had lost her for the day. Eventually she smiled and shifted her eyes back to his. "So, what is this girl's name? Tell me about her."

"Bella. Bella Swan," Edward said, still loving the sound of her name, the way it felt on his lips, the way it sounded in the air. And then he found himself pouring his heart out to his grandmother, telling her everything about the girl he loved, and why he loved her. Everything except how they met, of course. He had managed to keep his current career a secret with little effort. On the rare occasions Emily remembered to ask about his job, he claimed to be playing in a jazz combo that toured the Seattle/Portland area. He didn't feel as guilty about the lie when he reiterated it today. At least now, he had the outside chance of it coming true.

"I'm so happy for you, my sweet boy," she said, reaching out to grasp his smooth hand in her knobby one. "I always worried about you, even more than I did Alice. The way you always kept to yourself; never let your feelings show. I know how badly you missed your parents when God took them home. I felt your pain as much as I felt my own. You're too much like me in that respect - stoic. Always trying to be strong. Well, if nothing else, my illness has made me realize that you can't be strong all the time. There are times when you simply aren't up to the task. And it's okay to let the people who love you pick up the slack now and then. It's okay to ask for help. Lord knows I've had to."

Her grip on him tightened. "I know you've had to carry this burden along with me, and I can't tell you how sorry I am. I hate those moments when I can feel myself slipping away - when I know I've just lost something, some part of my brain, and I don't even know if it was important or not because I can't remember what it was. It's scary. And I know it must scare you, too, to watch that happen."

She leaned forward to place her other hand on top of their hands clasped together. Edward tried to blink back his tears and focus on what she was saying. "I'm sorry you've had to be strong for me, Edward. I always tried to be the strong one, for you and for Alice, because you were so young when I took you in. All the three of us had was each other. And you'll still always have me. You know who I really am, deep down inside, despite what I might show you on the outside. Just remember that woman when I become unrecognizable, even to myself. Because I know the day is coming. It's only a matter of when."

Edward wanted to argue with her, to tell her it wouldn't come to that. But they both knew it would. And they both shed tears now, to mourn the passing of their time together.

But then Emily smiled and patted Edward's hand in hers. "I'm so glad you've found someone to help you through whatever else this life throws at you. We all need that. A friend, a partner to see us through. Someone to be strong when we can't manage it ourselves. It sounds like this Bella might be that person for you."

Edward managed a smile through his tears. "I think so. I hope so. And I hope I can be there for her when she needs me."

Emily gripped his hand firmly one last time before letting go. "Now, you bring me a picture of her so I can label it and know who she is, even when I don't know the devil from Adam anymore."

"I will," he promised. "Oh, wait - I have a couple of pictures of her on my phone."

Edward pulled the cell phone out of his back pocket and scrolled through the photos, making sure his grandmother didn't get a glimpse of the racier ones he'd emailed to himself from Bella's phone. He found the pictures of their beach outing, then turned the phone so Emily could see.

"She's a pretty little thing, isn't she?" she exclaimed. "Dainty, like your cousin. Oh, I miss Alice like the dickens. It's been ages since I've seen her. When is she going to come visit me again?"

Edward gave her a wan smile as he put his phone back in his pocket. He took a deep breath, then started all over again.

.

.

.

"I can't believe Em still knows her chocolate chip cookie recipe by heart, but she can't remember that I'm in college now," Alice commented to Edward as they strolled through the manicured gardens for the which the nursing home was named.

"That's the nature of the disease. The stuff that's been in her brain the longest is the stuff she still remembers. But I can tell her ten times how old we both are now, and it doesn't stick."

"I know. I get it. But it's so frustrating. You have the patience of a saint, I swear. I just want to cry when I have to keep repeating everything."

"Trust me, I do too. Sometimes I do cry, on the way home afterward. Just to let it out," Edward admitted.

They walked along the paved path in silence for a moment. The warmth of the late summer sun felt good on Edward's forearms. He rolled his sleeves up another notch, to the elbows.

"Today was fun, though," Alice said, kicking a small stone out of her way. "Baking cookies with Em in the community kitchen was great. It almost felt like when we were kids."

"To her, we still are," he replied with a rueful laugh. "But sometimes she gets it. She was sharp as a tack when I first got here this morning. It's such a relief when she's her old self for a little while. But then it's almost more painful when she fades away again, because she knows what's going on. She knows what's happening to her, when she's lucid. It's like a cruel joke on all of us."

Alice nodded. "I know. At least when she gets stuck in the good old days, she doesn't know any better. She's happy there."

"Yeah. She is." Edward reached out and grabbed at a loose branch in a nearby bush, then began to absently strip the dead bark from it as they walked. "I told her about Bella this morning, even though I know she won't remember later."

"You did?" Alice asked, surprised. "How did she take it? I'll bet she was happy for you."

Edward smiled in confirmation. "She told me she was glad I had someone. She was worried about me being alone through all of this. You, too," he added, making sure Alice felt included.

"I should tell her about Jasper, then," she decided. "Maybe bring him to meet her some time."

"Maybe. I think we have to be careful, though. Bringing strangers here might agitate her. If I knew she'd be like she was today, I wouldn't hesitate."

"But there's no way of knowing, is there?" Alice's hazel eyes were filled with sadness as she looked up at her cousin.

Edward shook his head. "I never know what I'm going to find when I come here. For that matter, we don't know what we'll find when we go back inside. When Em wakes up from her nap, she might be a different person than the one we just saw half an hour ago."

Alice reached for Edward's hand. He could see she needed reassurance, so he clasped it tightly in his as they walked.

"You don't have to stay," he told her as the wound around the bend of the garden path. "Don't you have class this afternoon?"

"Yeah, but it's an econ lecture. I know a couple of people I can get notes from."

"Alice, I don't want your schoolwork to suffer because of Em's condition. She wouldn't want that, either."

"I know. I wouldn't skip class if it was an important one. I want to stay," she said softly, giving his hand a squeeze.

"Okay," he agreed, squeezing back before they let their hands drop. He was glad she wasn't leaving. He liked having her here, especially when their grandmother was nearly her old self again. Days like today were increasingly rare. He knew they should be treasured.

The path meandered through lush landscaping back to the facility, and they took their time walking it. Edward filled in Alice on his birthday date with Bella, leaving out the private details. Alice told Edward a little more about Jasper - how he had considered a military career until a faint heart murmur was detected during his ROTC physical, and he didn't make the cut. He chose to study his second love instead, mechanical engineering. Jasper Whitlock loved nothing more than to discover how things worked - to take them apart and figure out how to reconstruct them so they'd work better. He'd transferred to U-Dub to enroll in the mechanical engineering department's energy research program.

"Sounds like he'll have a solid career ahead of him," Edward commented, hoping the twinge of envy he felt wasn't evident. He'd often wished he had more of an aptitude for practical subjects in school - math, science, business - that led to lucrative careers. He'd managed to get good grades, but all he'd ever loved was music. He'd lived for the emotional release that flowed from his fingers every time he sat at a keyboard.

"What about you?" he asked his cousin. "How are your classes going? Have you found anything that piques your interest?"

"Well, I'm still getting all of the requirements out of the way," Alice reminded him. "I'm sure it's no surprise that I like my Principles of Design class the best. I always thought I'd like to go into fashion design, but now I'm kind of leaning toward interior design instead. I keep thinking of all the amazing things we could do to the house if we had the money.

"Don't give me that look, Edward," she warned, glancing up at his perturbed expression. "I'm not talking about getting rid of your precious antiques. I'm talking about updating some of the other stuff - fabrics, accessories. You'd be surprised at how something as simple as new window treatments would brighten up the place."

He couldn't help but chuckle at her enthusiasm. "That sounds like it came straight out of a textbook. Or HGTV."

"Bite me," she shot back. "Any fool can see that our house could use a little facelift."

Edward was still amused. "Fine. I'll see if Rosalie can throw me a little bonus money so you can go buy new curtains. If she comes up with a nice severance package, you can go hog wild."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Edward's stomach sank at his blunder. Alice was quick to pick up on the slip.

"Severance package?" She turned to face him and came to a dead stop on the sidewalk, blocking his path. "Are you quitting Renaissance?"

He took a deep breath. "Maybe. Hopefully."

She gaped up at him. "What do you mean, 'maybe?' What's going on with you, Edward?"

He let out a long breath. There was no point in keeping it from Alice, because she would find a way to coax, wheedle or badger it out of him eventually.

"I'm going to be playing in the contest this year."

He knew he didn't have to tell her which contest. She had been in the audience of the Seattle Piano Competition every other year from the ages of eight to fourteen, listening to him compete. They had missed the contest two years ago after the fallout from Emily's mishap in the kitchen, and the chain of events that led to her admission here at Tranquility Gardens.

The phrase "lit up like a Christmas tree" came to mind as Edward watched Alice's face transform. He didn't have any more time to ponder her expression before she threw her arms around him, tackling him in a bear hug and screaming her approval. She began practically jumping up and down after he set her back on the sidewalk and told her to calm down.

"Don't get your hopes up. I might not even place this year, I'm so out of practice."

"There's no way you won't place. You placed almost every year you entered. But wait, how _are_ you practicing? We don't have a piano!"

Edward winced slightly. "I have a friend who does. I've been rehearsing there every day."

Alice's eyes narrowed at the word "friend." "Oh, Edward. Please tell me you are not trading sexual favors for rehearsal time. I mean, if that's the case, no wonder you never told any of us about the contest. I don't know how Bella deals with what you do to begin with, but this . . ." She trailed off with a grimace.

"I am not trading anything for rehearsal time," he assured her. "Well, maybe friendship. And a few card and chess games." He sighed again at Alice's skeptical look. "Okay, yes, Charlotte is one of my customers, but it's not what you think. I've never slept with the woman. Our relationship is not sexual in nature at all. She's older than our mothers would be, if they were still alive. I mean, if anything, I'm probably a surrogate son to her. She has no kids of her own. She had the means to get me into this contest, and she did it to surprise me, to help me get out of the escort business. I couldn't look that gift horse in the mouth."

He hated how cheap and tawdry his situation sounded when he said it out loud, and he hadn't even told Alice about the monetary loan he'd accepted from Charlotte. Even though there was no sex involved, he'd never felt more like a kept man than he did right now, looking at the dubious expression on his cousin's face.

"I don't understand," Alice said. "What's in it for her? Why would she want to get you out of the escort business when she hires you for companionship?"

Edward shrugged, a little stumped himself. "I don't know. Because we're friends. I never really thought about it before, but that's what we are. I'd still want to visit her even if I wasn't escorting. I guess maybe she's my surrogate mom as much as I am her son."

Alice slowly nodded. "I guess I can see how that could happen. I always assumed that all of your dates revolved around sex, even though you claimed they didn't. I just thought you were trying to protect me."

"I'll always try to protect you. But in this case, it really is true - a lot of my work situations don't involve sex. And now, none of them do. Not since Bella."

Alice's eyes widened. "Wait, what? You're not having sex with your customers anymore?" She stopped while he shook his head in answer. "Since when?"

"Since a couple of weeks ago."

"Does Bella know that?"

He nodded. "I already told her I haven't been with anyone but her since she spent the night at our house. But I told Rosalie about my stance on the matter yesterday, so now it's official. I even have her blessing, sort of. If I can manage to keep the clients happy without the extra perks, Rose will keep me on for a few more weeks, until the contest. Then I'm hoping I can get some job offers that will allow me to walk away for good."

Alice's face brightened again. "Oh my God, Edward. This is what I've been praying for. And I'm not even sure I'm religious, but every time I think about whether or not there's a God, I ask him to guide us, and help get you out of this mess."

She hugged him again, and he had to admit to himself that it felt good to confide in her. "Bella must be so excited about this," she exclaimed as she stepped back and let go of him.

"I think she'll be more excited when I can tell her I've quit the business for good."

"No, I mean about the contest. I'll bet she can't wait to hear you play."

"She's already heard me play. That's kind of how we connected, actually." He smiled at the memory of their first night. "But I haven't told her about the contest. I want it to be a surprise."

"Seriously?" his cousin exclaimed with a frown. "Don't you want her to be there in the audience? I know she'd want to support you. She'll be so mad if she misses your moment of triumph."

"But I don't know if it will be a moment of triumph," he replied, his face grim. "I have no idea what will happen. And I can't stand the thought of disappointing her."

"You wouldn't disappoint her," Alice contradicted him. "You're looking at this all wrong. She'll be more disappointed if you don't include her in your plans. She'll want to be there for you, no matter what happens."

"I suppose." Edward grew silent as the truth hit him. He began walking again, gesturing for Alice to join him. "I think I'll be more nervous if Bella is there. I feel like my entire future is riding on this one afternoon, and she's a huge part of that. I'm already going to be under an enormous amount of pressure as it is. If she's sitting there, watching me with those big brown eyes. . ." He trailed off, imagining the hope and expectation etched on her face when he sat down to play. He couldn't stand the thought of not living up to it.

"I know how nervous you get. Edward. I remember how you used to throw up before performances. But you played in public so much while you were at Juilliard, I thought you got past some of that anxiety. And you know Bella would never judge you. She loves you."

He nodded. "I know. And what you're saying makes sense. Maybe I will tell her. But if I do, I want to do it myself, so please don't say anything in the meantime, okay?"

Alice let out an exaggerated sigh. He knew what a hardship keeping secrets was for her. "All right. It _is_ your news to tell, not mine. It might kill me, but I will keep my mouth shut."

"Thanks," Edward said, relaxing a little. "She's coming over tonight after she gets off work, so I'll be putting your promise to the test."

"Great," she replied with a tinge of sarcasm. "No, that is great, actually. I'm glad she's coming over. We need more hang time, the three of us. We can watch TV or play video games, you know, like normal kids. Unless you have other plans," she added with the arch of one eyebrow.

"No, hang time sounds good. For a little while," he added with a grin. He draped his arm around her shoulders as they walked. "Have I told you today that I love you?"

"No."

"Okay, then. I love you, even if you make me crazy sometimes."

"Ha!" she snorted. "I love you, too, even though you make me crazy most of the time."

He laughed and let his arm drop as they approached the nursing home. His good humor began to turn to apprehension when they entered and headed down the hall toward Emily's room. He hoped she would still be in good form when she awoke.

He knocked on the door a few times before opening it. "We're back, Em. Are you awake?" he called softly.

"It's just us, your grandkids," Alice echoed behind him.

They entered the room to see Emily stir on the recliner, blinking and stretching a bit.

"Carlisle, is that you?" she asked, squinting up at the pair as she reached for the recliner handle in order to raise herself.

"No, Em, it's me, Edward. Carlisle's nephew," he explained quietly. "I'm Elizabeth's son, remember?" He felt Alice's hand rest lightly on his back in reassurance.

"Elizabeth's . . . what?" she exclaimed as the chair settled into an upright position. She glared up at Edward as if he was the one who had lost his senses. "What are you talking about, young man? My Elizabeth's not old enough to have a child, let alone a grown son."

"Em, your daughter is gone," Alice interjected cautiously. "She died years ago, in a car accident with her husband, and your son, and his wife. They were our parents. Carlisle and Esme were my father and mother, remember? We're your grandchildren. Edward, and Alice." She pointed to her cousin, then herself.

Emily shook her head back and forth so quickly that she appeared to have palsy. "Where are you getting these crazy stories? Who are you - why are you trying to trick me with such lies?"

Alice gasped, her eyes growing round at the accusation. She'd never borne the brunt of one of her grandmother's full-blown episodes before, and the shock of it froze her to the spot.

Edward was more used to Emily's occasional outbursts. "We're not trying to trick you," he assured her in a soothing tone. "No one wants to hurt you, Em. We love you. Remember, you laid out these photographs of us earlier, in case you had trouble recognizing us. See?"

He leaned over the recliner, reaching across her for a picture of himself and Alice that lay on the end table. "Look, here we are, in the back yard of our house -"

A sudden crack of pain shot through Edward's jaw, silencing him abruptly. His hand instinctively flew up to the injured spot as he gaped at his grandmother. She had never struck him before. Alice shrieked in surprise at the attack, while Emily continued her tirade.

"Don't you come any closer, you thief! I'll scream loud enough for this entire neighborhood to hear me, and the cops will be on you before you get ten feet away from this house. Don't think I won't! You won't get a single piece of my family's silver or jewelry while there's breath left in my body!"

"I'm not a robber," Edward protested weakly, rubbing his jaw. "I'm not going to take anything from you."

"Damn right, you aren't!" Emily hollered, swinging at him yet again as she lurched forward in her chair. He jumped back out of the way, nearly knocking Alice to the floor. She scrambled back toward the door to the hallway while Edward held his hands up in surrender.

"I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, searching his grandmother's wild, frightened eyes for a glimpse of the woman he knew - the woman she'd made him promise to remember was in there somewhere.

Her body shook violently as she drew her fists into her chest and cowered back into the chair. Her face collapsed in confusion, eyes darting around the room as if looking for clues to make sense of what was happening.

"What's going on?" she finally asked, her voice frail and tremulous. "What is this place?"

_This is hell, _Edward wanted to answer. He looked back at Alice, stiffened into a pillar of salt against the door, her hand glued to the knob, her eyes glued to Emily. He finally caught his cousin's horrified gaze in his own. When he spoke, his voice was hushed in defeat.

"Go get the nurse," he told her.

* * *

><p><strong>A quick disclaimer:<strong>

**I have limited personal experience with the Alzheimer's disease. I once interviewed a nursing home resident who seemed remarkably lucid and in good health, and I couldn't figure out why she was in longterm care. But after about ten or fifteen minutes, she began to repeat the same things she had just told me at the beginning of our conversation, and that was my first clue that something was amiss. I have gleaned more information from online research and friends who have loved ones with varying types of dementia. From what I understand, it is common for patients to vacillate between moments of clarity and confusion, to suffer from hallucinations, delusions or paranoia, and in rare instances to react violently when agitated. I hope that my portrayal of Emily's behavior is not too far off the mark. It certainly is not my intention to offend anyone who has a loved one suffering from this ailment.**

**Heaping thanks to Careds4 for pre-reading and basically being my unsung beta for this chapter. Not to mention sending me Rob goodies and words of encouragement when I'm feeling down. ;) **

**Endless thanks to all of you who have supported my story with follows, favorites and kind reviews. What a blessing you all are! I see some new names lately, so I apologize if I have not responded to you personally. Trust that your support means the world to me. :) **


	41. Chapter 41

**A quick note of thanks to all of you who left such amazing reviews and PMs for the last chapter. I was overwhelmed, and saddened, at the number of you who have been personally affected by Alzheimer's, either because you have/had a loved one suffering from the disease, or you work in the medical profession with dementia patients. I am incredibly touched that you would share your stories with me so openly and offer to answer questions about Alzheimer's as it pertains to my writing. I'm glad I seem to have painted a fairly accurate picture of what it is like for those having to deal with dementia, though perhaps I made the character of Emily a little too self-aware in her moments of lucidity. From what I now understand, it would have been more likely for her to deny or try to hide her failing memory. Perhaps those typical behaviors will be touched on in future chapters. **

**As for this one, it's not long, but I didn't want to make you wait any longer than you already have. Real Life can be such an annoying bugger sometimes, interfering with the creative muse. **

* * *

><p>Bella propped herself up on one elbow in Edward's bed so she could study his face in the dim morning light.<p>

No bruising - that was good. He insisted that his grandmother hadn't hit him hard enough to leave a mark, but he winced when he tried to chew the Chinese take-out they'd ordered last night. He agreed to put ice on it after dinner at her and Alice's insistence. It looked like it had helped.

Bella reached out to run the tips of her fingers gingerly over the contour of his square jaw, relaxed now in sleep. He made a small noise and stirred slightly, pressing the other side of his face into the pillow. She turned her hand so the backs of her fingers glided lightly along the stubble that covered the lower half of his face and crept down his neck. His beard was a thick, dark blond that served to somehow heighten his sculpted appearance. He was already a work of art, in Bella's eyes. Any attempt to duplicate him in pencil could only be a pale imitation.

He murmured again, turning his face into her touch this time. The sound was low and throaty, rumbling up from his chest - an instant aphrodisiac to her. Bella wondered if he would be in the mood this morning. He certainly wasn't last night, and she didn't blame him. He and Alice were obviously still a bit shell-shocked from their grandmother's behavior earlier. What was meant to be a fun night in the Cullen house turned out to be a subdued evening watching old movies from the living room couch. Jasper Whitlock had joined them after supper, and Bella could see that Alice derived the same kind of peace from being with him that she did from Edward. She only hoped it worked in reverse - that he found peace in her.

She'd loved their low-key night together. She had never spent that kind of time with him, just cuddling on the couch, watching TV and making small talk with him, his cousin and her boyfriend. The ordinariness of it was comforting. It made her think this could work - that her relationship with Edward could hold up in the real world. She still felt disconcertingly like Cinderella racing away in her pumpkin carriage every time she climbed in her rusty red truck to leave Edward.

He sighed a little, the corners of his delectable lips turning upward. She could see his eyes stirring under their lids, making his long lashes flutter ever so slightly. He was about to awaken. The anticipation bubbled through her veins and stretched her mouth into a sheepish smile. She knew she ought to feel guilty for waking him, but the sight of him stirring to life was too wondrous to regret.

"Hey," she whispered at the first sight of his eyes peering through their fringe of lashes. She let her fingers trail over his beard one last time before falling to the mattress below his pillow.

"Hey," he mumbled back, his voice thick and low with sleep. His grin quickly matched hers.

"Do you feel okay this morning?"

He nodded and stretched a little. "I felt better when you were touching me, though."

They both let out a small laugh and Bella obediently reached for his face once more. "Are you sore?"

"No." His lips twitched slightly when her fingertips neared his chin.

"Liar." She stopped and gently probed the bruised part of his jaw. "You're still tender, right here."

"Yeah, well . . ." He trailed off and shrugged his shoulder. "Who knew my grandmother had such a mean right hook?"

He played it off like a joke, but she didn't laugh. She cupped her hand around the uninjured side of his face and leaned in closer. "I'm sorry she hurt you."

Her eyes told him she knew where the pain really was, deep in his chest. But she touched her lips softly to his bruised jaw, and the pleasure it gave him eased the ache inside.

"She didn't mean to," he said. "She was scared. I shouldn't have leaned over her like that to grab those photos - she saw it as a threat, an attack. I should have known better. I wasn't thinking."

Bella frowned and turned his face toward hers. "Don't you dare blame yourself. She was irrational. The disease made her lash out, but it wasn't at you. She loves you. All you were trying to do was remind her of that."

The ache inside Edward intensified, but it was a wholly different one from the pain of losing his grandmother. It was the ache of being filled with love for this girl and her efforts to comfort him. He was brimming over, bursting at the seams with it.

He reached under the covers to find the warmth of her slight body and pull her closer. His hand skimmed over his own t-shirt and boxer shorts that she'd borrowed to sleep in. He exhaled heavily at the memory of her begging to put on the shirt he'd been wearing all day. He smiled now, remembering the way she'd carelessly tossed her bra over the nearest chair, wriggled her naked torso into his t-shirt, then let it fall over those spectacular little tits so they could taunt him from beneath their thin cotton veil. Best of all, she'd sighed and wrapped her arms around herself, claiming that the heat and smell of him still clinging to the fabric was heaven.

This was his heaven, here and now. Waking up to this girl who'd held him all night, even when he jerked awake with a shout after he dreamed that his grandmother had fallen down the stairs and he was unable to catch her. This girl who'd kissed his jaw so many times last night and this morning that he began to believe there were healing powers in her lips.

"Thank you," he said, pulling her close to him under the covers.

"For what?" she asked. She snuggled into him, limbs entwining with his.

"Being you," he said. He slid his hand up her back, into her hair. "Being here. With me."

"Where else would I be?" she asked, in that tone that added, _silly boy._

He didn't want to think about the answer to that. Bella never seemed to see all her options, or at least consider them.

"I love you," she reminded him softly. "You would be there for me, if the situations were reversed."

And just like that, she put things in perspective for him, as always. He wouldn't think twice if she were the one in need. For that matter, he required no such incentive to be with her. It was increasingly difficult for him to be anywhere else.

He hoped his eyes spoke for him as he pulled her into a good-morning kiss. "I love you" was hopelessly inadequate, but he said it anyway, between sticky morning-breath smooches. Every time he remembered her reluctance to kiss him that first morning-after, he would grin and then kiss her more deeply, with more urgency.

She was over such niceties, anyway. They were false and feeble protests from the start. She had been nothing but raw and open with him since that first night, stripping him to his bare essence and willing him to do the same to her.

They had always been this way with one another, and now was no different. They pulled impatiently at each other's clothes until their naked skin made contact. The heat danced between them, urging their bodies to move in time with the flames. They grasped at one another, desperate to be closer, and before Edward's brain could kick into gear, his erection was sinking into that warm, wet home between Bella's legs.

He cursed softly to himself as he slid in deeper. It wasn't safe to do this. Not yet. Still, he asked her anyway, though he already knew the answer.

"How long have you been on the pill?"

"A week." Her face registered her own disappointment.

He nodded and reluctantly withdrew from her, rolling away long enough to open the nightstand drawer and grab a foil packet. He removed the condom from within, sheathed himself as quickly as possible and scooted right back to Bella. She hadn't moved - she was still lying on her side, facing him. He pulled the bed covers all the way down, exposing her pale and lovely form to his appreciative gaze. Like an alabaster statue in a museum, her beauty was surreal, almost too exquisite to touch.

Almost.

He knelt next to her and reached one hand out to the delicate bones of her ankle, encircling it easily with his fingers. He lifted gently, pulling her leg upward. He pressed his lips to the arch of her foot, right at the sensitive instep. His mouth followed the ivory path over her ankle and up the back of her calf to the crook of her knee; then down the sensitive flesh of her inner thigh to the swollen proof of her arousal. He tickled the bright pink skin of her folds with the tip of his tongue before pushing it into her creamy opening. He moaned at the taste - he would never tire of it.

And she would never tire of being tasted. She squirmed at the almost unbearable pleasure of his wet mouth teasing her, and the intoxicating heat of his hand gripping the back of her knee, rendering her immobile. She couldn't close her legs if she wanted to.

She didn't want to, but she whimpered at the relentless explorations of his mouth, and then his other hand. They worked in tandem, gently stroking, probing, pushing deep inside her. She moaned again, unable to contain it. How did he still do this to her? Take her to that place where nothing existed but spiraling ecstasy.

She gasped in both disappointment and relief when he pulled away for a moment. But he was only repositioning himself, straddling her lower leg and effectively pinning her to the mattress. He lifted her raised leg higher, so her ankle rested on his shoulder, opening her wide to receive his rigid cock hovering nearby. With his free hand he grasped himself, rubbing the head up and down her clitoris before teasing her opening. And then he pushed in slowly with gentle strokes, deeper and deeper, until she didn't think she could take any more.

But his pelvis was insistent, grinding into hers, making sure every inch of him was swallowed inside her. This position was yet another first for her, taking his cock sideways, so that his penetration was utter and complete. He groaned with each stroke now, his thrusts pushing her hip upward, his skin smacking against hers at the impact. She grasped at the pillow she'd slept on and groaned along with him. He was so deep inside her, she wasn't sure if it was pleasure or pain she was feeling. She wondered if he was bruising her cervix. Could that happen?

He recognized that tense look on her face. He saw it the night he took her virginity. He slowed his movements and gently kissed her ankle, trailing his lips down her calf once more. Then he ran his hand down her leg, over her hip and up her back, while the other reached out to caress her arm, her breasts, her stomach. He stroked her body up and down until she sighed and relaxed. He ended by swirling his fingers between her legs, massaging her sex rhythmically while he slowly picked up the pace again, sliding his cock a little deeper each time. Her moans were definitely filled with more pleasure than pain now. He loved reading her this way; gauging her responses and then adjusting his lovemaking accordingly.

He realized he'd never used that term in his life, even in his head. _Making love. _It always sounded silly to him; old-fashioned and trite. He smiled a little now, but he was ready to cut the phrase some slack. Maybe he'd never used it because he'd never loved anyone before.

He looked down at Bella, her hair spread out over the pillow in a wild tangle, fingers gripping the pillow case, forehead furrowed in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Her breathing was heavy, her breasts heaving in time with his thrusts. God, she was beautiful. And the way she felt was beyond compare, like her body was created specifically for his, her snug vagina gripping him like a glove, the way the stupid condom that separated them did.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted cry. He wanted to come.

"Fuck," he mumbled in frustration. He withdrew long enough to turn Bella until she lay flat on her back, looking up at him in surprise. He drew her other leg up so that both were raised. He grasped the backs of her knees, pushing her legs open until her glistening pussy was gaping wide before him. The sound of his own ragged breaths rang in his ears as he stared down at her.

"You are the most beautiful thing in the world to me," he whispered. He'd said before. He was sure he would say it again, and again.

She had no chance to reply. She was still staring up at him, slightly stunned, when he let go of her legs and fell into her, lowering himself so abruptly that the breath left her lungs in a rush. She gasped for air; it came out as a cry when he slid his cock back inside her. He quickly smothered her mouth in a kiss, his tongue moving in time with his thrusts, his hands cradling her face to hold her steady. His urgency surprised her for only a moment before it kicked her own needs into overdrive. She writhed compliantly beneath him, her eager hips raising to meet his. Her fingers tangled in his hair, hands gripping his neck to hang on as his hips rolled relentlessly into hers. The weight of his body pressed her into the mattress and made her feel each deep thrust with an intensity that literally shook her to the core.

And yet, as she clung to him, bathed in his sweat and panting breath, she felt something even more palpable than his desire, more poignant than his need.

Love.

He loved her.

Of course, he had told her so on her birthday, and a dozen times since then. He had written it in text messages. Said it on the phone. Murmured it during sex like it was a mantra that would lead him to nirvana.

But his eyes were speaking now, even louder than his body as it strained to become one with hers. She knew he needed her now more than ever, after watching his grandmother's condition deteriorate a step further yesterday. He was desperate and hurting. He might need something from her that she wasn't sure she could provide. She could never take away the hurt of losing the person he'd loved as a mother for years.

But she could give him something else. She could love him like he'd never been loved before. Love him with every ounce of her being - her heart, her mind, her body, her soul. They all converged into one as she wrapped her arms and legs around him, pulling him into her, pressing every inch of herself that she could manage against him.

"I love you, Edward," she whispered, her lips grazing his earlobe, then his cheek. "I love you." She said it again and again, the way he did a few nights ago, on her birthday. Once he'd said the words out loud, he couldn't seem to stop, and the bliss she felt was a high from which she never wanted to come down. She was determined to take him there now, to make him feel nothing but happiness in this moment.

But his grunts only became more anguished as he drove into her. The desperation in his eyes was palpable as he came closer and closer to release. She met his wild gaze with a fierce calm, gripping his face firmly, fingers clutching his hair to hold him steady as he drilled her.

"Baby, please," he gasped, not knowing what he was begging for.

"Give it to me," she demanded, clamping her vaginal muscles tightly around him, squeezing until the burn began to seep through her belly. "Give it all to me. Everything you have."

_Your love. Your desire. Your virility. _

_Your pain. Your frustration. Your impotence. _

_I will take it all, and I will give you everything in return._

Her offer was unspoken, as was his acceptance. He answered only with animalistic groans, plunging his cock between her rigid walls until the delicious friction had its way with him. One last thrust and then he stilled with a panting cry, letting the ecstasy rocket through him and into her, over and over.

He collapsed into her in profound relief. His chaotic thoughts had vanished; his emotions distilled into one easily identified truth. He focused on her face, letting his eyes speak to hers.

_You are everything to me._

"Everything," he whispered, before sealing it with a kiss.

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.

.

Edward peeled off the used condom, wrapped it in a tissue and threw it in the trash can under the bathroom sink. He would be glad when he could dispense with these things altogether. Glad when he could just be with Bella, no condoms - or exes, or phony dates - coming between them.

But the light at the end of the tunnel was becoming brighter. His practice time at Charlotte's had begun yielding results. He could play his recital piece backwards and forwards without error. Now he was tackling the nuances, trying to infuse each passage with the perfect phrasing and volume, legato to staccato, pianissimo to forte. He had studied the sheet music thoroughly and strove to play it exactly as written, while still pouring his own emotion into it, to somehow leave a personal mark.

Charlotte had even talked about hiring a music coach, which he knew would be of great benefit; but he couldn't bear the thought of her spending any more money on him. The guilt of his debt to her already weighed heavily on him.

He sighed, grabbed a wash cloth and cleaned himself up before heading back to the bedroom. He was already missing the warmth of Bella's arms, and wanted to spend as much time there as he could before she had to leave for her late-morning class.

He threw the bathroom door open, then came to an abrupt halt. He had almost run smack into someone in the hallway, and that someone was Jasper Whitlock.

The two men stared at each other in mutual consternation for a moment. The realization that Jasper had spent the night with his baby cousin overshadowed Edward's embarrassment that he'd just been caught stark naked. Fully-clothed Jasper's own embarrassment was only exacerbated by Edward's state of undress. He kept his eyes fixed straight ahead as he stammered a red-faced excuse.

"Edward - hey. This is not what it looks like. I didn't - I wouldn't take advantage of Alice," he insisted, shaking his head. "Nothing happened. She just didn't want to be alone last night. So I stayed with her."

He seemed to steel himself for Edward's wrath, but he didn't back down. Edward found that he rather respected the guy for it. Not that Jasper needed his respect. Who was he to judge anyone else, after the choices he'd made? Especially when he was standing here in the hallway with his Johnson hanging out.

"It's good that you stayed. She did need someone." He paused, then clarified, "She needed you. I'm glad you were here for her."

Jasper returned the half-smile. "I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

Edward nodded his approval, then moved past Jasper to his own bedroom door. "Alice is a big girl now. She makes her own decisions," he said over his shoulder. "She doesn't need my approval."

"But I know she'd rather have it than not." Jasper gave him a cautiously hopeful look.

Edward smiled again. "She has it."

Jasper's shoulders relaxed in relief as Edward disappeared and closed the bedroom door.

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.

.

The kitchen was comfortably quiet, save the sounds of masticating teeth and cutlery on plates. Bella, Edward, Alice and Jasper sat in row at the bar, inhaling their breakfasts like prisoners who'd been given their rations after a long day on the chain gang. Jasper was the one to finally break the silence.

"These pancakes are awesome, man," he enthused to Edward, reaching around Alice for the syrup bottle. "Seriously good. You could open your own diner."

"Stop sucking up," she told him with a giggle. "You already won him over. What about my eggs? I think this is the first time I haven't overcooked them in the history of . . . ever."

"That's because this is only the third time you've attempted it," Edward reminded her with a snort.

"All the more impressive! I'm practically a natural in the kitchen."

"That you are," Jasper readily agreed, leaning over and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Your eggs are perfect. Delicious. You can make me breakfast any time."

Bella could practically see Edward bristle, and she almost laughed out loud. Though he knew his little cousin wasn't much younger than she was, knowing it and accepting it were two different things. Bella pressed her thigh against his underneath the countertop, making him look over. Her eyes reminded him what he'd told Jasper about Alice being all grown up now. His replied, _I know, but I don't have to like it. _

Bella muffled a giggle with her orange juice glass, taking a long draught. Her eyes caught the clock on the wall as she set the glass down, and her mood abruptly shifted. She let out a dejected sigh.

"What is it?" Edward asked softly.

"Just realizing I have to leave soon to get to my art history lecture," she said.

"Me, too - global politics," Alice interjected with a groan. "I feel like playing hooky."

"You just did that yesterday," Edward reminded her. He left out, _with disastrous results._

"I know," she answered with a frown.

"I have to work right after class is over, so there's no point in me skipping," Bella said glumly.

"And I have to work tonight," Alice added. "But we should try to find a time to get together again, the four of us. Maybe go out and have some fun for a change."

They all agreed on that plan of action. Moments later, all were checking their cell phones to figure out when they were free. A quick comparison of work and school schedules proved disappointing. The four of them would not be able to get together again for at least a week, though Alice and Bella made plans to meet for lunch on campus a couple of days. Bella was even more dismayed to discover that the only time she and Edward could easily see one another over the next couple of weeks was on Sunday evenings.

Her chest constricted at the prospect of all those days and nights away from him. She knew work and school would keep her busy most of the time, but that didn't erase the ache she felt inside. Waking up next to him in that massive four-poster bed was a privilege she was loath to give up. She felt connected to him in a way she'd never experienced with any human being before. How was she supposed to live without that now?

Edward seemed to read her mind with little effort. As soon as he'd made sure she was safely buckled into the cab of her truck, he leaned in and pulled her close.

"We're going to make this work, Bella," he said softly, his thumb stroking her cheek. "I'll call you and text you every day. We'll find time to be together. Even if I have to sneak into your dorm in the middle of the night," he added with a short laugh.

"You can sneak in every night if you want to," she answered hopefully.

"Don't tempt me. I'd do it if I thought your grades wouldn't suffer from lack of sleep."

"Fuck my grades," she said, only half-kidding. And then, wistfully, "Fuck me."

He flashed a quick grin, but his words were serious. "We're way past fucking. I want more from you than that."

"You have it," she told him.

He nodded. "I know. I'm so grateful for you." He leaned in and pressed reverent lips to hers. "I don't know how to repay what you give me. But I'll find a way."

He never seemed to tire of saying that, but she was tired of arguing about what he already gave her. So she just smiled weakly and nodded.

"Sunday night," he reminded her, his voice perking up. "Call me as soon as you get off work. I'll come pick you up and take you to dinner somewhere. Be thinking about what kind of food you want, and I'll take you someplace new. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed. They shared several prolonged, yearning kisses before she reluctantly left Edward's home and headed for the UW campus.

Her head was filled with wondering on the drive back, but not about what kind of cuisine she wanted to try Sunday night. She was much more concerned about how she was going to fill the weekend hours until then.

And keep herself from wondering how Edward was filling his.


	42. Chapter 42

**I debated waiting to add more to this chapter before posting, but decided I'd like to return to writing shorter chapters and updating more frequently, like I did when I first uploaded this story over a year ago. (! Where does the time go?) Of course, I had 15 chapters completed before I ever began posting, which is not the case now. But I'm still hoping to update at least every other week until this story is finished.**

**A million thanks to all of you loyal readers who keep me going, and a warm welcome to everyone who has just hopped on board. Hope you enjoy the ride, even if it gets a little bumpy.**

**Special thanks to Cared for proofreading and giving good advice on the first half of this chapter. The second half is unbeta'd, so anything that goes wrong is entirely my fault. ;)**

* * *

><p>Bella stared up at the paint swirls in the ceiling as she lay on the shag rug in Riley Biers' dorm room. The patterns seemed to be moving - vibrating slightly, rolling into one another like waves in a gentle sea, or puffs of clouds across a pale sky. It reminded her of when she was a kid and she'd lie in the grass, staring into the blue, conjuring up identifiable shapes in the clouds.<p>

"That's so cool," she said at last, to no one in particular. Riley, his semi-maybe girlfriend Bree, and Mike Newton were all in the vicinity, but she was aware of them only vaguely in her peripheral vision. To the left she could see Riley's sneakered feet hanging off the edge of his tiny dorm bed; directly to her right were the spiky blond tips of Mike's hair. The rest of his body was stretched out on the floor behind her.

"What's cool?" he asked her.

"The ceiling. It's . . . shimmering."

Mike was silent for a full minute. "I don't see it," he finally admitted.

"I do," Riley piped up. "Sorta. Maybe."

Bree, lying next to him, began giggling.

"Riley, did you lace Bella's joint with 'shrooms or something?" Mike accused.

"No, man," Riley responded with a laugh. "I didn't want her to get sick like last time. That was brutal."

"It was," Bella agreed. She would have shuddered, but couldn't quite manage it. "Don't worry, I'm fine. As long as I stay away from the booze, I'm good." She paused and closed her eyes. She imagined that the carpet beneath her was part of the cloud swirling above her, and she was floating, free and easy, through the atmosphere. "I'm _really_ good, in fact."

She heard Mike laugh. It sounded further away than just a couple of feet. Must be her cloud cocoon, muffling his voice.

"I'm glad you're good," he said. "But you're also cut off for the rest of the night, just so you know."

"That's okay," she said blithely. "I'm perfect just the way I am, here and now."

"That you are," he said softly. She heard shuffling noises next to her. She opened her eyes to find him sitting, cross-legged, in her line of vision now.

"I'm glad you could hang out with us tonight," he told her. "I know it's kind of low-key for a Saturday, but sometimes it's nice to just chill."

"Yeah. Chill," she agreed, closing her eyes again.

"I'm surprised you're not out with Suit Guy, though. Since it's date night and all."

The cloud surrounding Bella darkened slightly.

"Edward works a lot of nights. And weekends," she said quietly. Her voice sounded muffled in the cloud now, too.

"Yeah? That sucks," Mike said in commiseration, though she couldn't imagine that he was sincere. "What does he do?"

The cloud began to swirl uneasily around her.

"He's a musician," she replied. She could barely hear her own voice now. Mike's was even more muted.

"Musician," he echoed in surprise. "Huh. I figured he was a lawyer or something. Showing up in a suit on a Friday night like he did."

"He's a classical musician."

"Oh. Okay. Well, yeah, that makes sense." He paused, and she let her eyes open a slit to peer sideways at him. He had his knees up now, hands clasped around them. He was studying his thumbs intently. He took a breath, and it felt as though he was sucking in her cloud, pulling her with it.

"So what about next Saturday? Will he be working then?"

The cloud grew turbulent, taking her stomach along for the ride.

"I'm sure he will."

Mike let out a breath this time, and her cloud spun the other direction, making her stomach lurch again.

"Well, if you're free, I'd still really love for you to come with me to that All-Greek Cocktail that I mentioned Monday night. Remember?" he added hesitantly.

The cloud engulfed her, dark and roiling, making it difficult for her to breathe.

"Did you ask Jessica? I still think she'd be a better choice. I'll bet she'd really like to go with you."

"She's already going with someone else," he informed her. "I thought about asking her, since it seemed like you weren't that interested. But as soon as I brought up the party when I saw her the other day, she went off about this hot guy she was bringing. Said he'd blow everyone out of the water, whatever that means."

From the corner of her eye, Bella saw him shrug before he continued.

"So anyway, Jess is spoken for. Which is fine by me, because I'd still rather take you. Just as friends, of course. No funny business," he added, catching her wary glance in his direction. "I mean, if Suit Guy is gonna be busy anyway, why not come out and have some fun?"

_Why not? _Indeed. Suit Guy would definitely be busy. Until he walked away from escorting for good, he would always be occupied on a Saturday night. And she would always be looking for ways to pass the time, especially when Alice was working or on a date with Jasper. Last night Bella had joined some of the non-partying girls on her dorm floor for movie night in the lounge. Tonight she'd opted to get baked with the guy she'd spilled a drink on the last time she did party.

What about the rest of the nights? There was always her job at the bookstore. Homework. Studying. More movie nights in the dorm. More reefer while she stared at the fucking ceiling, trying to form a coherent thought.

Or, All-Greek Cocktail with Mike Newton.

When she spoke, her voice was as thin as air; light as mist. She wasn't sure she'd even said the words out loud. They sounded far away, like they were struggling to pierce a thick fog.

"Why not?"

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.

Charlotte Rinehart did not bow her head when she prayed.

Instead, she gazed up at the stained glass window above the church altar. On rainy Sunday mornings such as this, its brilliant colors were muted by the dull gray light filtering through them, but the image of Christ with his arms outstretched was powerful all the same. It strengthened her faith. Reminded her that all things were possible through God.

She found herself praying for Edward again today. He'd been working his fingers to the bone on her Steinway for the past two weeks. She often had to urge him to take a break to get his mind off of the music, or remind him to eat. To her untrained ears, he was now playing his concert piece to perfection on a regular basis. But with five weeks left until the competition, she was afraid the combination of his perfectionism and self-doubt would end up being detrimental rather than beneficial to his performance.

She decided it was time for a professional to weigh in on the matter, so she'd called in a favor with an old friend of Peter's. A retired symphony pianist, Alistair Brock might be able to give Edward some pointers, as well as keep his focus and self-confidence intact over the coming month. At the very least, he would provide a fresh set of ears to analyze the boy's work. Her own had grown rather weary of hearing the same piece of music over and over. Surely Edward must be tired of playing it. She had the feeling he would welcome Alistair's input, even though he protested that he didn't want her to spend any more money on him. Maybe he'd be satisfied to know that Alistair would not put a price tag on the opportunity to mentor a talent such as Edward's.

She would find out soon enough. She'd invited the older gentleman to visit the house during the younger's rehearsal time tomorrow.

Charlotte smiled up at the glass window before her. Surely God would show mercy on a young man trying to remedy his mistakes and choose a different path in life - the path he was meant to take. Sometimes when Edward improvised at the piano, making up his own melodies, she imagined that angels were working through his fingers. The ethereal beauty of the chords he strung together delighted and often surprised her. She didn't need to wonder what - or whom - was his muse. She was fairly certain she knew the answer. He'd as much as admitted that his turnaround was due to the arrival of Bella Swan in his life. He now had someone to fight for other than his ailing grandmother.

She only prayed that along the way, he would learn to fight for himself.

Pastor Tim's sermon was uplifting on this gray Seattle morning, and Charlotte found herself in good spirits by the time the final hymn was sung. As much as she adored Edward's company, she had to admit she was looking forward to a quiet afternoon alone at home. He had opted to take a day off from his rigorous practice schedule and spend it with the only male friend he'd ever mentioned, a young man named Emmett. She'd encouraged him to enjoy himself and give his overworked hands a break. She was afraid his incessant worrying would drive him to an early grave.

Charlotte rose from the pew after the pastor's final benediction, then chatted with the other parishioners as they made their way down the aisle. The congregation usually gathered in the overflow room for refreshments after the service, and today was no different. But as she headed to the serving table at the back of the room, she spied a familiar-looking young woman reading the church bulletin board near the front entry. Her long, dark hair and uneasy stance reminded her of the girl who'd literally knocked her hat off a couple of weeks ago outside this very church.

The girl Pastor Tim had found out was named "Bella."

Charlotte took a detour and approached the bulletin board instead. The girl appeared to be reading a notice about an upcoming fundraising event.

"Good morning," she greeted her warmly. "It's so nice to see you again. Were you here for the service today?"

The girl looked startled, but then her eyes registered recognition.

"Hi," she replied. "I did come for the service today, actually. It was nice."

"I'm so glad you enjoyed it," Charlotte said. "I find Pastor Tim's sermons to be quite uplifting. Not so preachy, as many ministers can be."

The girl smiled. "Well, I don't have much to compare with, but I agree. I like hearing him speak."

"Well then, I hope to see you again next Sunday as well," Charlotte said, then wondered if that was a touch pushy. She glanced at the notice the girl had been reading on the bulletin board. "Are you interested in joining us on the CROP Hunger Walk?" she asked.

"Yeah, maybe. I'll have to check my work schedule. But it looks like a good way to pass a Sunday afternoon, walking to raise money for hunger relief."

"Indeed, I can't think of better use of one's time. I have to take the short route these days, and it takes me longer to finish than I'd like to admit. But it's not a race. People simply sponsor you for the distance walked. If you decide to participate, just put your name on the sign-up sheet. You can get a sponsor sheet from the pastor, or go online and print one off," Charlotte explained.

"Thanks," the girl said quietly. Goodness, but she was shy. And attractive in a very natural-looking way, her fair skin and dark eyes adorned with very little make-up. Could this be the same Bella who had captured Edward's heart? She looked like the type of girl who could win over a man whose life experience had taught him to crave substance over style. Charlotte could see that the girl standing before her was as solid as they come.

"You're welcome, dear. Would you like to join us for coffee or soda? You'll find both at the table over there," Charlotte offered, gesturing toward the refreshment table.

"Oh, no thank you. I can't stay. I have to get to work. But it was nice to see you again."

"The pleasure was mine. My name is Charlotte, by the way," she introduced herself, holding out her hand. "Charlotte Rinehart."

"I'm Bella," the girl said, giving her hand a quick but firm shake. "Bella Swan."

Charlotte felt a small thrill of satisfaction at the confirmation. It was not difficult for her to feign surprise instead.

"Bella Swan?" she repeated. "Do you, by any chance, know a young man by the name of Edward Cullen?"

The girl's eyes snapped to attention. "Yeah, I do. He's a good friend of mine." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "How do you know him?"

Charlotte balked, realizing her blunder. She should have known Edward would never reveal the existence of an older woman - a Renaissance Escorts customer, no less - who was his benefactor.

"Oh, I'm an old family friend," she fibbed breezily. "He sometimes uses my late husband's piano for practice sessions. Lovely boy, and a genius behind the keys. I do hope he'll make use of his talent in the professional realm some day soon."

The girl nodded, her face relaxing a little. "That's what he's working toward." Her cheeks colored slightly. "So . . . He's mentioned me to you?"

Charlotte smiled warmly. "Yes, several times, only in the best terms. I do believe you might be behind his interest in returning to music. He let his grandmother's illness deter him for too long."

"It's been hard on him," she said, her brown eyes reflecting a shadow of the pain Charlotte saw in Edward's eyes when he admitted what had happened.

"Yes, it has. Especially after that awful business the other day, during his last visit with her," she sympathized. "I'm glad he has someone to help him through the hard times now. That makes all the difference in the world, you know."

The girl's cheeks flushed anew. "I hope so," she said with a soft smile.

"I know so," Charlotte assured her. Bella's smile grew as she stared down at her own Keds-clad feet. Before the pause grew awkward, Charlotte bade her good-bye.

"Well, I won't keep you if you must be getting off to work. It was such a pleasure to meet you, Bella. I do hope to see you again soon."

She held out her hand and Bella took it, giving it a sold shake.

"It was nice to meet you, too, Mrs. Rinehart."

Charlotte tried not to cringe at how positively ancient she felt at Bella's words.

"Please, call me Charlotte. No need for formality between us."

"Oh, okay," the girl said sheepishly. "See you later, Charlotte." She gave an awkward wave and turned to descend the steps toward the front door of the church.

"Take care, Bella."

Charlotte felt a strange pang of some unnamed emotion as she watched Bella's slender form exit the building. The love of Edward's life now had a face and a figure to match the name. She was glad to discover another piece of the puzzle falling into place for him, painting a more complete picture for her in the process.

But she had to admit, in her heart of hearts, that her place in its periphery was bittersweet.

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.

.

"How do you like the black cod collar?" Edward asked from across the table. If Bella's face was any indication, she liked it immensely. The ecstatic noises she made upon first taste were anything but subtle.

"It's great. Really delicious," she mumbled between bites. "And I'm not usually that big of a fish fan, but this is so . . ." she paused to find the right words. "Rich. Buttery."

Edward smiled. "It is. Maneki's makes the best sablefish in Seattle. I knew you'd like it. And Japanese food, for that matter."

She eyed his smug face and said, "You know me well."

"A little better every day. But you still surprise me sometimes." He paused to take a sip of his sake. "Like the fact that you decided to get high again last night with that pothead and your ex. I was hoping you'd learned your lesson after the last time."

_Fuck. _The judgment flew out of his mouth before he could stop it. He sounded like a disapproving older brother again. Or worse yet, her dad.

She eye-rolled him as if he was.

"I think it was the gallon of 190-proof grain alcohol that did me in last time," she argued. "The pot itself relaxed me before I drank too much. It distracted me from wondering what you were doing that night."

"Which was nothing, if you recall. And last night was more of the same - another class reunion. Strictly business."

Bella raised a quizzical eyebrow. "And how did your date like that?"

Edward flinched slightly. She hadn't liked it much at all, and he'd spent half the evening dodging her increasingly shameless advances. Luckily she was inebriated enough at the end of the night to be half-asleep by the time he deposited her in her hotel room.

"It doesn't matter what whether or not she liked it. Nothing happened. Nothing ever will," he reiterated, more firmly this time.

"'Doesn't matter?' I'll bet Rosalie would disagree with that," Bella said. _Not to mention your client,_ she mentally added. She imagined how humiliated she would have felt that first night if he had rejected her sexual overtures.

"I told you, Rosalie is cutting me some slack until I can find legitimate work. She gets where I'm coming from because of her situation with Emmett. I'm sure that's the only reason she didn't fire me on the spot for getting involved with a client. Normally, that would be a deal breaker."

"Right." Bella speared another forkful of the delicacy on her plate, then chewed it thoughtfully. "But how much longer can she afford to risk disappointing her customers?"

Edward's brows knitted. "I don't know. A few more weeks is all I need, if everything goes well. I hope she can hang on until then. You, too," he added, giving her a meaningful look.

She returned it with an exasperated sigh. "I really wish you'd tell me what's happening in a few weeks. Do you have an audition or something?"

Edward hesitated, debating. He didn't know why it was so hard for him to tell her about the piano competition. She'd just given him the perfect opportunity to admit the full truth, right now. He should bite the bullet and let her support him, no matter the outcome.

But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was, "Yeah. It is an audition, of sorts."

"Really?" The smile that spread across her face warmed him to the marrow. "What kind of audition? For a little combo, or a big symphony, or what?"

He felt the usual aggravating anxiety gnaw at his gut. He shook his head and turned his attention to his fish, sawing into it with unnecessary vigor. "I don't really know yet," he said quietly. "I told you, I don't want you to get your hopes up in case it doesn't go anywhere."

"Too late," she informed him. "I already have my hopes up. Because I know that whatever you're auditioning for, you're doing to do great. There's no way you won't make it."

Edward raised grateful, if slightly baffled, eyes to hers. "I love your faith in me."

Bella frowned at the disbelief lingering in his voice. "Well, I'd love it if you had as much faith in yourself as I do."

He gave her a wry smile. "I'm working on it."

"Well, work harder," she ordered. "Because even if you don't succeed at the first audition, I know you will at the second, or third. Or twentieth. Whatever it takes. You've got too much talent to give up." Her voice went from emphatic to pleading. "Besides, I couldn't take it if you went back to being a full-service escort."

"I won't," he said sharply. "You have my word on that. No matter what happens."

"I know," she said with a sigh. "I believe you, I really do. But it's still hard for me sometimes. I guess I trust your clients about as much as you trust Mike and Riley."

They studied each other soberly, eyes locked in another stalemate.

"Well, then, it's a good thing we trust each other," he said, and she nodded in agreement.

Neither of them could acknowledge the split-second of uncertainty that flashed between their eyes.

Edward took another long drink of sake while he searched for a more benign topic of conversation.

"So, did you do anything else fun this weekend?"

"Fun? Hmm. Well, I worked this afternoon, and yesterday I wrote a paper for Comparative Greek Literature. So, if you consider that fun, then my weekend was jam packed with it," she said with a sardonic laugh, and Edward joined her.

"Oh! I almost forgot," she exclaimed after a gulp of sake. "I went to church this morning, believe it or not, and I ended up meeting a friend of yours there."

Edward looked up from his plate, startled. "You went to church?"

"Yeah, to the little, tan brick one near the dorms. I stepped inside it a couple of weeks ago to look at this huge, beautiful stained-glass window that's in the sanctuary. The vibe was so peaceful, I thought I'd check out the service this morning. It was nice. The pastor has been blind since he was a kid, so it's pretty inspirational to hear him speak. He has such a great attitude, you know? He talks about faith and hope like they come to him as naturally as breathing."

"Huh. That's great," Edward commented awkwardly. Emily used to take him and Alice to Sunday school when they were kids, but he'd gotten out of the habit of attending church while he was in college. And now, considering the sins of his recent past, he knew he'd feel like a leper if he darkened the door of any place of worship.

"So, who did you meet there?" he asked. He couldn't imagine what friend or acquaintance of his she would have come across.

"An older woman. Charlotte something - I forget her last name," Bella admitted. "Does that ring a bell?"

Edward stared at her, his mouth slack with surprise. "Charlotte Rinehart?"

"Yeah! That's it," Bella said with a smile. "Is she a friend of your grandmother's?"

He continued staring, numbness creeping through his joints. "Is that what she told you?"

"Well, no. I just assumed, by her age. She said she was a friend of the family."

Something in Edward's expression must have given him away, because Bella suddenly froze in place, fork halfway to her mouth. Her face contorted in dismay, then distaste, as the realization hit her.

"She's not an old family friend, is she?" she whispered, putting her fork down.

"No." He couldn't manage to croak out anything else.

Bella slumped back in her chair. "Wow," she said at last. So Charlotte had hired him, just like she had. She should have figured it out when the woman had called him "Cullen" instead of "Masen." She tried to wrap her mind around the thought of Edward being with a woman old enough to be his mother. Or grandmother. The fish she'd eaten began to flop violently in her stomach.

Edward's own supper squirmed at the sight of Bella's stricken face. "Christ. You don't think I slept with her, do you?"

"I don't know. Did you?"

"No," he insisted, the denial sounding more vehement than he intended. He took a calming breath and lowered his voice. "I was never intimate with her. It's not like that between us. It never was. She hired me strictly for companionship. That's all it's ever been."

The doubt lingering on Bella's face made him want to pound his fists on the table in frustration.

"Charlotte and I are friends," he explained, trying to stay calm. "She's more like a mother to me than anything else. She's a great lady."

"I didn't mean to imply she wasn't," Bella replied, slightly taken aback. "I liked her. She seemed really nice."

"She is." Edward grimaced, hating how defensive he sounded.

"She obviously cares about you a lot," Bella added. She couldn't help but wonder how much. Just because their relationship had remained platonic didn't mean that Charlotte hadn't secretly wished for more. Bella was still amazed at how oblivious Edward could be sometimes. He never quite comprehended how attractive he was to the opposite sex, age appropriate or not.

"She probably feels sorry for me," he said with a bitter chuckle. "She's letting me practice on her husband's old piano until I can get one of my own."

"She mentioned that, actually. So, is that where you're rehearsing? For the mystery audition that may or may not be happening soon?"

"Yes," he admitted. "It's not a mystery. I'm just trying to get my chops back so someone will hire me. I'm probably making the poor woman deaf in the process."

Bella was silent for a minute, picking at the last remnants of black cod on her plate. "I'm surprised she wants to help you like that. I mean, since she won't be able to hire you anymore after you quit the business."

"You and Alice," he muttered under his breath, remembering his cousin's remarks. He gave Bella the same reply he'd given her. "We're friends. Friends help each other." He could come up with no other reason why Charlotte would be so selfless.

Bella nodded, but he could see that she wasn't wholly convinced. The shadow of suspicion lingered, causing her to gaze at her empty plate instead of him. What would it take for her to trust him? Every time he thought he'd earned it, something like this proved him wrong.

"I'm curious, though. What if Charlotte _had_ hired me for more than friendship?" he asked her, playing devil's advocate. The notion was absurd, and it sounded even more ludicrous when he said it out loud. But he had to know where Bella really stood when it came to dealing with his past misdeeds. "What if I had slept with her at some point, before I ever knew you?"

Bella balked before answering. "I don't know. I'd like to say it wouldn't make any difference, but I don't know if that's true. It probably would bother me. There would be a different kind of history between the two of you."

Edward frowned slightly. "I guess I can understand that. But it still worries me a little," he admitted. "I have an ugly past, Bella. I really want to leave it where it belongs. But if deep down, you resent me for it or hold it against me, then I think we're going to have a hard time moving forward."

Bella's eyes flared in both panic and indignation. "I don't resent you. How could I possibly hold your past against you? I'm part of it. I hired you, and we both know exactly why. Neither of us was looking for more, but we found it anyway. Or it found us." Her eyes softened. "All I want to do is concentrate on that, and move forward with you. But yeah, I admit it'll be a lot easier for me when that part of your past is really over, and you're truly free."

He nodded slowly. It always came back to this.

"Remember our discussion the night we met? About freedom?" he asked.

Bella thought back. "You told me that freedom always has a price."

He nodded. "Well, I was wrong. It's not a price you pay. It's a privilege you fight for. And you've given me a reason to fight."

Her smile was bittersweet. "I love that you feel that way about me. But I want you to fight for yourself, too. You need to want it for _you_, not just for me."

"I want it for us," he answered, reaching his hand across the table. "How's that for a compromise?"

Bella reached out and took his hand, loving the strength she felt in his fingers grasping hers. She grasped back, hoping he'd feel the same strength in her.

"I'll take it," she said.


	43. Chapter 43

_What an ass._

Bella's mental assessment didn't refer to the naked backside before her, but rather to the entire being to which it was attached. She couldn't see the face of Jackass James and he couldn't see hers. She didn't have to try to ignore his leering gaze or inappropriate erection, if he was sporting one today. She was even happier that she didn't have to draw them. The muscles of his back, hamstrings and glutes were much easier to recreate on paper without the distraction of his penetrating eyes, or other parts.

But, truth be told, he did have kind of a nice ass. She'd give him that. Only that.

As always, she ignored him during his post-class stroll to check out everyone's interpretations of his naked form. Surprisingly, he ignored her, too. He merely nodded and raised an eyebrow at her when he passed her easel. But somehow his wordless look was just as lurid as his come-ons.

Her shudder of distaste was interrupted by the professor's voice as he strode to the middle of the room to make an announcement.

"After reviewing your work last week, I've graded each of you and made a few comments on your progress so far. I'm an old man so I've done it the old-fashioned way." He waved a stack of papers in explanation as the students gathered their drawing pads and pencils. "You may pick them up on your way out. Those of you who have earned A's or A-minuses will have an opportunity to participate in a student exhibition in the Jacob Lawrence Gallery next month. If you have qualified, you'll find another sheet attached to your grades, outlining how you may prepare and submit your work for consideration. If you have any further questions, see me."

Bella's heart picked up its pace a little. She hurried to get her supplies together so she could see her grades. Had she made the cut? Having her sketches displayed in the U-Dub Art School gallery would be an honor she'd never even considered before. But she was suddenly very excited at the prospect.

She hastily stored her supplies in the cubicles at the back of the room, then joined the queue to receive her grades. When the professor handed her two sheets of paper stapled together, she was so excited she barely heard him say, "Good job, Ms. Swan." She beamed at the letter "A" at the top of the page, then skimmed over the comments about her skilled used of shading and the improvement she'd shown in the freedom and fluidity of her lines. The second sheet contained instructions for matting and displaying submissions for the exhibition. She was allowed to enter up to five sketches, but only two examples of each student's work would be chosen.

She was so busy poring over the guidelines that she nearly ran into someone as she made her way out the door.

"Sorry," she blurted before looking up.

"No apologies necessary," came the smooth, innocuous voice of Jackass James. "You're welcome to bump into me any time. Especially if you're going to look that elated about it."

"What?" she said weakly, only half paying attention. When she got the gist of his arrogant comment, her expression soured. "I made the cut," she said, waving her grade sheet in explanation. "I get to submit my work for the student exhibit."

"That's great," he replied, again sounding remarkably sincere. "I don't know why you look so surprised, though. You're easily one of the best artists in the class. Definitely better than anyone in the Monday-Wednesday group."

"You model for that class, too?" She wanted to clap her hand over her mouth. Why was she engaging him in conversation? She began walking down the hall, hoping he wouldn't follow. But now that she'd asked him a question, he fell in place beside her.

"Yeah. I model for all the morning Life Drawing classes. I have for a few years now. I find it very . . . freeing. Clears my head. Makes me keep my body in shape, too," he added with a laugh.

"Hmm," she mumbled noncommittally, trying not to make a face.

"The money doesn't hurt, either," he went on. "Although I don't need it like I used to. Business is picking up for me lately," he said with a grin.

Bella didn't take the bait this time. She wasn't interested in his line of work outside of being a nude model. Knowing him, he probably moonlighted as a male stripper.

"But enough about me," he continued, unfazed. "Have you decided what to submit for the show? I'd be happy to help you pick out the best of your sketches. I know what the professors are looking for when they critique student art. I've certainly heard plenty of their comments over the years."

Bella glanced up at him, trying to read behind his amiable expression. His offer appeared, and sounded, completely innocent. So why did she get the feeling it wasn't?

"Thanks, but I think I'll manage," she said brusquely. She turned a corner and headed down the stairs, hoping to lose him, but he was right at her heels.

"Fair enough," he said, zooming past her down the steps. He beat her to the double doors exiting the building and held one open for her. "Ladies first."

She ignored his broad grin, giving him only a curt smile and a mumbled "Thanks" as she swept past him into the damp Seattle air.

"Are you busy right now? Can I buy you a cup of coffee?" he offered.

Geez. The guy was relentless. "No, thanks. I have another class to get to," she lied. She actually had an hour or two to kill before meeting Alice for lunch, so she planned to go to the library to study. She certainly didn't want him tagging along.

"May I walk you?" he asked, undeterred.

_Seriously? _She scrambled for another excuse. "I need to make a phone call, actually." She shrugged out of her backpack, unzipped it and began fishing around for her phone.

James finally took the hint. "All right, then. See you next week."

She tried not to sigh aloud in relief as he continued down the sidewalk without her. But then he turned suddenly and called, "Bella!"

She reluctantly looked up. He was still walking, but backwards now, facing her.

"Use the sketch you did today - the one of my ass. It's one of your best."

She returned his shit-eating grin with something resembling a sneer. He chuckled, looking quite pleased with her reaction. Then he waved, turned and sauntered away.

"Asshole," she muttered to herself, pulling out her phone. She threw her backpack over her shoulder and speed-dialed Edward as she slowly walked in the direction of the library. As soon as she heard his voice, her acrimony toward James was forgotten. Excitement took over and she began talking a mile a minute, telling him about her inclusion in the student art show next month. When she finally stopped to take a breath, she heard him chuckling.

"That's awesome news, Bella. But I don't know why you're so surprised. You're incredibly talented."

"That's what James said," she muttered. "I guess you can't both be wrong."

"Who's James? Your professor?"

"Oh, no. He's just the art model."

"The same guy from before? Is he bothering you again?"

Bella hesitated. The guy had been nothing but polite lately. Well, until that last little remark before he left.

"No, not really," she said casually, not wanting Edward to worry. "He keeps trying to make small talk after class but I try to ignore him."

"Shit, Bella. Is there someone else in class you can walk with when you leave? I don't want this asshole following you anywhere."

She wondered if it was wrong to feel a tiny thrill at his over-protectiveness. "Relax. He isn't following me. Just now I told him I was busy, and he left. No big deal."

"What do you mean, you told him you were busy? Did he ask you out?"

"Just for a cup of coffee. I said no. He left me alone. End of story."

She was met with silence for a few pregnant seconds.

"Fine," Edward said, sounding defeated or frustrated, she wasn't sure which. "Just promise me you'll be careful. You said the guy hit on you the first day he saw you, and it sounds like he hasn't given up."

"Well, it doesn't matter. I'm spoken for. I've seen the guy naked, and I'm not even tempted. What else do you want?" she joked.

He didn't laugh. "I want you to be careful, like I said. Keep your dad's pepper spray handy."

"Oh my God," she exclaimed. "I really think you're overreacting. But you'll be happy to know I have the pepper spray right here, in my backpack."

"Good," he said. Bella could picture the rigid line of his lips and the tiny crease between his brows as he said it.

"So, how's Emily today?" she asked, hoping this would be a happier subject.

"Not so good," he said quietly. "She thinks I'm her husband today. She keeps asking me to check on the baby, and then pats her belly and asks me what we should name our second child. I'm tempted to suggest 'Elizabeth,' just to see if that will trigger something. But I don't want to set her off again. So I'm just going along with the charade for now. I'm hoping maybe she'll be better this afternoon."

"I'm sorry," Bella said, her steps slowing as she heard the bad news. "I was hoping you'd have a better time than last week."

"It's okay. I'm pretty much used to her living in the past. Last week I got to see the best _and_ worst of her. Usually her condition doesn't go to both extremes in one day. I think that was harder to take than a day like today."

"That's good, I guess," Bella conceded. "But still, it has to be hard when she doesn't remember you at all, and imagines you're someone else."

He sighed. "It isn't easy," he admitted. "I'm starting to worry that her talk with me last week was her good-bye. Like she somehow knew she was slipping away, more and more, and she made an effort to say what she needed to say to me before it was too late."

She heard the break in his voice at the end, and it broke her own heart a little bit.

"Hey, I have an idea. Alice is meeting me at the burger place again at noon. If you need a break, why don't you join us? You can get away for a while, and maybe when you go back to see Emily, she'll be a little better."

"That's tempting. We'll see. If I don't make it, though, you two have fun without me."

"I'm sure we will. But it'll be more fun if you're there."

He let out a rueful laugh. "I'm glad you think so. But I'm not sure I'm very good company today."

"That's okay. You're always good company to me, no matter what mood you're in."

"I think you might be a little biased."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

"Good point," he acknowledged. "I'm actually pretty grateful for your bias."

"That goes both ways." Bella paused as she neared her destination. "Well, I've arrived at the library. I think that's my cue to get some reading done for my Greek lit class."

"Okay. If I don't see you at lunch, I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. Love you," she added softly as she entered the quiet building.

"I love you, too."

Edward's whispered words echoed in Bella's ears while she looked for a secluded spot to sit. She wandered up to the second floor and found an empty cubicle, then settled in to read her next assignment. When she pulled out the book, the title nearly made her break the silence around her with a loud guffaw.

She managed to stifle her laughter but was still smiling as she turned to page one of _The Golden Ass._

.

.

.

"So you went from one ass to another. Classic," Alice said with a grin. She dipped a steak fry into some ketchup and popped it in her mouth while Bella snorted at her remark. "Let's just hope it's not the theme for your entire day."

"Right? This does not bode well for my shift at the bookstore tonight. Six hours," she said with a groan. "Although the money comes in handy, that's for sure."

"I hear you. Sometimes I'm dead on my feet by the end of a weekend shift at Mama Gianna's. But last summer's tips paid for all my textbooks this semester, and a lot of times Sophia lets me eat for free, so. . ." Alice shrugged and washed down her fries with a gulp of soda. "Edward pays for all the essentials - utilities, property taxes, even part of my tuition. Not to mention all the nursing home fees for Em. The least I can do is pay for my own meals, clothes, and gas for the car. I'm looking into possible scholarships and increasing my student loan amount, too. I know I'll need them when he quits escorting."

Alice sounded remarkably matter-of-fact about her impending debt, as well as Edward's plans.

"So, you think he'll really do it soon?" she asked.

"What - quit hooking?"

Bella winced at her friend's bluntness. "Yeah. I think I'm afraid to count on it really happening."

"Well, don't be," Alice said. She pressed her lips together for a moment, willing herself not to spoil Edward's surprise. "It's only a matter of time before he's out for good," she finally said. "I know it. If one thing doesn't work, another will."

Bella nodded in relief. "You're right. I've told him the same thing myself. I can't believe a talent like his won't get him a decent-paying job somewhere. I think he can make it work if he really wants to."

"Absolutely," Alice agreed emphatically, grabbing another fry. "And if we have to hire some financial wizard to help us figure out how to pay the bills, so be it. Edward can't keep paying with his soul, you know? I'm so glad you came along when you did. You finally made him see the light before it was too late."

Bella gave her a wan smile and took another bite of her Reuben sandwich. She certainly never imagined she could be anyone's savior. But the beatific look Alice gave her said otherwise.

The girls were silent for a minute. Bella concentrated on her lunch, while Alice concentrated on her. Bella looked up to find the girl's doe eyes piercing her through.

"I keep wondering about something, though," Alice said. She swirled a French fry idly in her ketchup, not looking at Bella as she spoke. "What was in it for you? I mean, why did you hire my cousin in the first place?" She looked up apologetically. "I know it's none of my business. But I don't get it. It just doesn't seem like you. Hiring an escort doesn't seem like something you would do."

Bella felt the faint flush of embarrassment spread over her face. "I think that's why I did it. To prove something to myself, and to the guy who was trying to pressure me into sex when I thought he was my friend." She cringed slightly, not wanting to relate the entire tale. "At least that's what I thought when I made the appointment. But it was more about me, trying to figure out who I was. Who I wanted to be. Or who I thought I wanted to be, anyway."

She let out a wry laugh at the confused look on Alice's face. "I'm not sure I can explain it in a way that makes sense. I'm not sure it _does_ make any sense." She paused, the realization hitting her at the same time the words came. "I had this crazy idea that sex was the key to finally growing up. Getting past being an awkward teenager who never felt like I fit in anywhere. I thought I'd be transformed somehow, and emerge all confident and secure in myself, like a butterfly from a cocoon."

Her laugh was genuine when she realized how ridiculous that sounded. "I _was_ different afterward, but not in the way I thought I would be, and not because of the sex. It was because of what made the sex so good - the connection between me and Edward. I never expected that. I never expected to find someone who really saw me, and wouldn't let me hide behind my own self-consciousness. Someone who could break through my defenses and let me break through his."

She paused, her eyes far away as she remembered. "It's like we had no control over what was happening between us. Like it was this force that was stronger than we were. That's what had been missing for me, that kept me from giving in to the guys before him. That feeling you can't explain, because it just _is_. Or isn't. He was the first. The only."

Bella halted, startled that she had rambled on that way. Alice's eyes were round with wonder, her half-eaten burger still in her hand, frozen inches from her mouth.

"That's beautiful," she said, her voice hushed. "That's what I have with Jasper. I think." She scowled and put down her sandwich. "No, I know. I know that's what we have. We just need to express it fully. We still haven't . . . done that. But I want to. I've been kind of nervous about it; I don't know why. But I want whatever it is that you two have. That connection. I want to take it all the way, you know?"

Bella nodded. She did know. "Well, you're lucky," she said encouragingly. "You figured out the love part before the sex, instead of doing it backwards like Edward and I did. It should be amazing for you and Jasper."

"I hope so. Was it for you? The first time?" Alice asked anxiously. "Spare me the details, though. This is my cousin we're talking about here."

Bella chuckled. "The first time was . . . indescribable. I'm not gonna lie - it hurt, the first couple of times. But I didn't regret it. Not for a minute. Edward made that impossible."

Alice nodded, her eyes dancing. "I know it will be incredible with Jasper, even if it's not. If that makes sense."

"It makes perfect sense," Bella commiserated between munching French fries. "Just be safe. Edward would have a coronary if you turned up pregnant or something."

"So would I!" Alice exclaimed. "I'm eighteen. Babies are not in my future, for another five years at least. Probably more." She shuddered slightly.

"Mine either. Edward always has condoms, but I just went on the pill, too."

"Jasper's always packing the birth control, too," Alice said with a laugh. "I think all guys do. Hope springs eternal. Their next lay might be around the corner."

Bella's chuckle was hollow. She never dreamed she'd fall in love with a man who actually got paid for what most guys were begging to give away for free. She glanced at the restaurant door in vain once more. Edward was obviously going to be a no-show.

"Are you expecting someone?" asked observant Alice.

"Well, I was hoping Edward might meet us for lunch. I talked to him earlier and he sounded kind of down. I suggested he take a break and meet us, but. . ."

Alice grimaced. "I know I should have gone with him to see Em again today, but I just couldn't do it, Bella. I don't know who that woman was last week. She never would have laid a hand on either of us. To see her attack Edward like that. . . I can't take any more of that."

"I understand. I know he does, too. He probably doesn't want you to go through that again, anyway."

"I know, and yet he puts himself through it, hoping he'll get a glimpse of the woman she once was. He's braver than I am." Her words were heavy with shame.

"Maybe you could take Jasper with you some time," Bella suggested. "I know he'd be there for you if you asked him."

"I know he would, too. But I hate to burden him with that. And I'm afraid of upsetting Em. Or having her mistake him for her husband," she added with a bitter laugh.

"No, that's Edward's role. For today, anyway," Bella told her.

"Oh, God." Alice's eyes closed and her face went ashen. "If I didn't have a test this afternoon, I swear I'd go over there right now. He must be in hell."

"I know. I have class and then work, too. I just hope he'll call me. He said he would."

"I'll call him after my test and see how he's doing," Alice promised.

Bella nodded and pushed her plate away. The last few bites of her sandwich had lost their appeal.

.

.

.

The glow of Bella's phone was no match for the brightly lit quad. One quick look told her that her only message was from Mike, no doubt checking once again to make sure she'd be ready at 7:30 p.m. on Saturday for the Greek cocktail party.

She didn't bother to read it right now. She sighed and dropped the phone in her backpack as she trudged across the grass toward her dorm. Edward still hadn't called, and neither had Alice. She fished for her keys as she neared the side door, the one closest to her single room at the end of the hall. She climbed the stairs to the third floor, her steps growing heavier with each flight. She was tired.

She unlocked the door to her wing and pushed it open with a weary shove of one shoulder. When she stepped forward, she nearly tripped over two outstretched legs across her path.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she exclaimed, stepping back before she kicked the stranger in the shins. Only this was no stranger. She recognized his long legs before her eyes darted to his beautiful, haunted face.

"Edward," she exclaimed.

"Hey," he said softly, gathering his legs under him to stand up. "I'm sorry if I scared you."

"You didn't," she assured him as she looked up into his anxious eyes. "Are you okay?"

He nodded, though he didn't really look okay. "I just needed to see you."

She hurried to unlock the door to her room, then turned curious eyes back to his. "How did you get in?" The doors to each wing of the co-ed dorm were always locked.

"One of the girls on your hall let me in. Melissa, I think? She said you all watched movies together last Friday."

"Oh, yeah," Bella said. "She's nice. I'm surprised she let you in, though."

She threw her keys on the nearby desk, and her backpack on the chair. She could sense Edward right behind her before she felt his breath on her neck.

"I told her I was your boyfriend and that you were expecting me."

His arms reached out to pull her close; she leaned back and let him envelop her.

"If you had called me, that would have been true." She stroked his forearms and let her head fall against his chest. "But I don't mind these kinds of surprises."

He swayed with her, rocking her gently in his arms. It was a consoling gesture, but she had the feeling he was the one who needed comfort. He said nothing. He simply breathed heavily into her hair, his face pressed against the side of her head.

"You smell so good," he sighed at last. She felt his arms tighten.

"Today was bad, wasn't it?" she guessed in a quiet tone.

She thought she felt him nod into her hair.

"Did she know you at all?"

Edward took a deep breath and grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. His hands immediately cradled her face; his eyes searched hers in quiet desperation.

"You know me," he whispered.

She nodded, her eyes pooling with instant tears at his need.

"I know you."

His lips were on hers then, seeking that knowledge, that confirmation. She gave it freely. The feeling she had tried to describe to Alice earlier overcame her, filling her to overflowing, carrying her away on its surging tide, in Edward's arms.

He lifted her as if she weighed nothing and laid her in the narrow bed she'd left unmade this morning. He wordlessly undressed her, hungry eyes devouring every inch of her skin as he revealed it. He made speedy work of his own clothes and quickly covered her nakedness with his own.

The heat of his body seared her, branding her in ownership, melting her into part of him. And then he was a part of her, moving inside her, pushing deep, begging for acceptance. She met him eagerly, opening up, allowing his full penetration. Not of just her body, but her heart. Her soul.

They fused together with grunts and groans, the air around them filled with the quiet passion of rustling sheets, panting lungs and stroking skin. Each thrust was accompanied by Edward's breath on her face, his escalating moans of ecstasy in her ears. It wasn't long before he was close, and so was she. So close to that pinnacle of oneness that she nearly forgot reality. She wanted only to feel him come inside her, to fill her with that molten liquid that marked her as his, for all eternity.

"Edward, you have to pull out."

Was that raspy voice hers? She wasn't cognizant of forming the words, but there they were, puncturing the spell that bound them.

"What?" he grunted, eyes unfocused as his cock continued to drill her.

"I could get pregnant. I haven't been on the pill long enough."

His eyes were wild as he stared down at her. Then they squeezed shut, he pulled out and erupted, groaning as he covered her belly in streams of milky semen.

"Fuck. I'm sorry," he began between heavy breaths. But she stopped him by pressing her fingers to his lips.

"Don't. You know how I feel about those kinds of apologies."

"But you didn't come. I need you to," he said, his voice plaintive. "I need you."

She felt his fingers slide between her legs, revisiting the wet place he'd just left. She had no wish to argue with him. She simply gave in, sighing with pleasure as he pushed them inside, filling her and massaging her with just the right intensity to make her breath come fast and her hips dance in ecstasy. He supported himself on one forearm as he lay next to her, staring relentlessly at her face while he worked her into a frenzy with his other hand. She could feel him studying each wave of pleasure that contorted her features and wracked her body. And when she grabbed his neck with a cry, yanking his thick hair between her fingers at her moment of release, he merely smiled.

"That's my girl," he whispered, gently massaging the almost painfully sensitive flesh between her thighs as the shockwaves of her orgasm subsided. "My sweet girl."

He smoothed her hair away from her damp brow and placed a single lingering kiss on her lips. Then he briefly left the bed in search of a towel to clean her up. His expression was sober as he wiped the damp fabric over her stomach.

"I can't believe I was that careless," he muttered.

"Don't make a big deal out of this," she begged. "Technically the pill should be working by now, but to be on the safe side, we should wait a month. That's what the doctor told me."

Edward let out a soft snort. "Is that the same quack who gave you the dildos and no condoms?"

"The same," she said with a wry smile.

"Well, I actually agree with her this time. It's always better to be safe than sorry." He paused and gave her a meaningful look. "Thanks for saving me."

"Us," she corrected him softly. But she knew what he meant.

He left her again to wash out the towel in the sink. Her eyes lingered over his naked body, savoring his broad shoulders, tapering waist and muscular thighs. She was still amazed that this sexy creature was hers. She smiled at the perfectly round, white flesh of his buttocks. Now _that_ was an ass she could fully appreciate.

"What are you smiling at?" he asked with a cocky grin of his own, glancing at her in the mirror as he hung up the towel to dry.

"I am smiling at your gorgeous ass. Now get it back in this bed immediately."

He laughed as he sauntered back to her, his eyes crinkling up in the first sign of contentment she'd seen today.

"Scoot over. This bed wasn't built for two."

She dutifully made room for him, not caring that the bed's confines necessitated that they curl up in one another's arms.

"You aren't leaving, are you?" she asked, watching him try in vain to stretch out in the cramped space. His feet pushed the covers down and hung over the end of the mattress.

"No. Unless you want me to," he said, shooting her a worried glance.

"No way. I haven't seen you since last Sunday, and I won't see you again until this Sunday. I'm savoring every minute." She buried her nose in his neck, inhaling his scent with a satisfied sigh. His chest shook with a silent chuckle as he pulled her close.

"I've missed you, too."

They lay in silence, listening to each other's breathing. Bella felt herself growing drowsy, lulled by the warmth of his skin and the rhythm of his chest rising and falling beneath her hand. She was reminded of the time he'd pushed her on the swings in the park, letting her fly back and forth, back and forth.

"We should go to the diner for breakfast tomorrow," she suggested with a yawn. "I'll let you push me on the swings again."

"You'll let me?" he said, repeating their dialogue from that day. She didn't have to open her eyes. She could hear the smile in his voice. "I consider it a privilege."

"You have to let me push you this time, too. That's my only stipulation."

"Push away." He sounded more serious now. "I look forward to it."

They were quiet once more. Bella was lulled again by his hand softly stroking her head, but she resisted sleep. She didn't want to waste her time with Edward by being unconscious.

"What did you do after you left the nursing home today?" she asked cautiously.

He stiffened slightly, but his fingers continued to comb through her hair. "I went for a run. Spent some time outdoors."

"Did you go to Discovery Park again?"

She felt him nod. "Yeah. It was kind of drizzling outside, but it felt good. Cleared my head a little."

She began stroking his chest in time with his hand in her hair. "Did you go to Charlotte's and practice?"

"No. I gave the poor woman a break. I'm sure her ears are bleeding by now. And Alistair won't be there again until tomorrow afternoon, so. . ." His shoulder shrugged beneath her.

"So, he's really helped you, then?" She recalled the excitement in his voice when he'd called her Monday night to tell her about the retired pianist Charlotte had enlisted to give him some pointers. Edward hadn't sounded that enthused since the night of her birthday, when he got to play in the blues club.

"I was surprised at how much I've gotten out of having a trained ear critique me. It's been so long since I had that kind of feedback and constructive criticism. I'd forgotten how much I need it. I need someone to kind of get me out of my own head."

"You? Stuck in your head? Get out," Bella teased gently, raising up on one elbow to find his eyes in the darkness. They twinkled back at her in the dim light seeping around her dorm windows.

"Yeah. Imagine that," he agreed with a laugh. "The guy has been a godsend, really. I don't know how I can ever repay Charlotte."

"But he's doing this for free, right? Isn't that what you told me? Because he was a friend of her husband."

"Yeah. But I still feel like I owe them so much. I don't know how to repay that kind of debt."

"You don't," Bella told him. "Not in concrete terms. You repay them by putting their generosity to good use. By fulfilling the potential they see in you. And then someday you might be able to offer your own experience to help someone else. You know, pay it forward, down the line."

He reached up and cradled her face in his hand for a moment, his thumb stroking her chin. "What would I do without you?"

She moved her hand to his jaw, mimicking his caress. "Let's hope we never have to find out."

He craned his neck up, pulling her to him in a string of reverent kisses. They settled into the pillows beneath them, limbs entwined, breath mingling into one, and let sleep take them.

.

.

.

The blue dress taunted her from its hanger in the closet.

_I dare you to wear me._

She had no choice but to take the dare. The truth was, she had nothing else to wear to the cocktail party tonight. She wasn't about to spend a lot of money on a brand new dress for an event she didn't even feel like going to. Her afternoon hunt through the racks of several thrift stores had yielded nothing appropriate that fit her. By the time she'd fully realized her dilemma, it was too late to cancel her date, unless she wanted to be as big an asshole as Jackass James. And now Mike would be here in approximately twenty minutes.

Maybe she could fake illness. A migraine. Flu. The wave of nausea that hit her every time she thought of putting on the blue dress was close enough, right?

Why had she thought she could do it? Why had it not occurred to her that this silly blue dress had taken on sacred connotations as it hung in her closet for the past five weeks? It wasn't just some dress she'd managed to snag from an end-of-season sale rack at Macy's anymore.

It was the Deflowering Dress.

Everything about it screamed "Edward" to her. Just looking at it flooded her with memories. The way he'd moved the strap aside to cover her shoulder with kisses. The feel of his hands pulling up the silky skirt so he could caress her flesh beneath. The cool air against her skin when he unzipped the dress and pulled it over her head, freeing her in more ways than she ever dreamed were possible.

This was _his_ dress.

But he was with someone else tonight. Another nameless, faceless girl about whom she would never know, because they never discussed his job anymore. He spared her that much. And she spared him the details, innocuous as they were, of her time spent with other guys. There was nothing to tell. And now that Edward was refusing sex to his clients, there was nothing else she needed to know, either, except that he loved her.

_Her._ Not the dress.

It was an inanimate thing, scraps of blue silk sewn together in a faraway land. It was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It couldn't touch what was important, what was real, between her and Edward.

Steeling herself, she marched over to the closet and grabbed the dress off the hanger. She stepped into it, yanked it over her hips, pushed her arms through the straps and reached back to zip it up. There. Done. That wasn't so hard.

The shoebox containing her platform heels lay at the bottom of the closet. She grabbed it and dumped the pumps unceremoniously on the floor, then shoved her right foot into the proper shoe. Her ankle wobbled slightly while her left toe maneuvered the other shoe into place. She took a few steps in them, getting her bearings; then reached for the silver jewelry she'd laid out on the edge of her dresser. She would not wear her grandmother's earrings tonight. They would stay safely ensconced in the beautiful miniature jewelry box Edward had given her.

His birthday gift to her was a different story. She wore the charm bracelet every day, regardless of her attire. Tonight would be no different.

She took a deep breath and headed for the full-length mirror. Her hair was curled, her make-up was done. Nothing too outrageous, but presentable. She wanted to look nice. Not for Mike, really, but for herself. She was about to be surrounded by the types of girls who'd always intimidated her before. But Edward thought she was beautiful, and that was all that mattered.

She stared into the mirror now, trying to see what he saw. Wondering what was his first impression of her, wearing this dress, stepping over the threshold of that hotel room. She saw the same pale, dark-eyed waif she'd always seen, though perhaps she was more womanly now. She did seem to fill out the dress well enough, its slinky fabric enhancing her subtle curves. She grabbed her make-up bag and added a touch more lip color and blush, to liven up her ivory complexion. Then she hastily threw the cosmetics back in the bag before she crossed the line into clown territory.

A knock at the door made her jump unnecessarily, and she was surprised when a small wave of panic barreled through her. She suddenly felt naked in this relatively bare, body-skimming dress. _Edward's dress. _She could not shake the notion no matter how she tried.

"Hey Bells, you ready?" came Mike's affable voice through the door. It did little to soothe her.

"Yeah, just a minute," she called. She sped to the closet as quickly as her pumps allowed, rifling through the hangers until she came to a cream-colored sweater crocheted in a lacy, open weave. Yes, that would help.

She pulled on the sweater and glanced back in the mirror. Skin and dress were still visible through the yarn, but she felt less exposed. She grabbed the little satin bag she'd found at the thrift store earlier and answered the door.

"Wow," Mike blurted. His eyes bulged in their sockets as they looked her up and down. Apparently Edward wasn't the only one who found her beautiful.

"You look amazing, Bella," he said. The sincerity in his voice already made her feel bad, like she was leading him on, when she hadn't even said a word to him yet.

"Thanks. So do you," she replied automatically before glancing at his gray suit and pink silk tie.

"Takes a real man to wear pink," he said with joking bravado, following her gaze.

"Indeed," she agreed with a laugh. "I'm just sorry I don't match."

"That would be incredibly prom-like, wouldn't it?" he noted, cringing slightly.

"Don't remind me."

"Hey, it wasn't so bad. I have some fond memories of our prom," he said, and his tone told her he meant it. She didn't know what to say. She didn't want to take any trips down memory lane with him right now. Or ever.

He must have seen the sentiment in her eyes, because he quickly shifted gears. "But that was then, this is now. Upward and onward. You ready to have some fun?"

He raised the crook of his arm and gave her his most disarming smile. She couldn't help but smile back. She wrapped her fingers loosely around his elbow and said, "Ready as I'll ever be."

.

.

.

Edward sighed, rang the doorbell of the Gamma Phi Beta house and waited. He hated sorority houses. He knew exactly what sort of scene he would be subjected to when one of the girls finally opened the door. He would find a gaggle of females preening in the living room, each more made-up and surgically enhanced than the last, waiting for their respective dates to arrive and escort them to the ball.

Or cocktail party, in this case.

He idly wondered what his date tonight looked like. It didn't really matter. Big or small, short or tall, he would smile and find ways to make her feel special without flat-out lying to her. He still maintained his policy of honesty with his clients whenever possible. But the charade was getting harder every day, when every paid interaction with another female felt like a betrayal to Bella.

The heavy wooden door of the sorority finally opened. An overly spray-tanned blonde in a lemon-colored dress greeted him with a wide smile and even wider eyes.

"Oh. My. God. You must be Edward Cullen," she exclaimed.

His eyes narrowed slightly. He wondered what that meant. But he quickly affixed a gracious smile to his face and said, "You're right. I must be. And you are. . . ?"

"Tiffany," she replied, gaping at him for a couple more seconds. "Wow. She was not kidding," she added under her breath as she stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come in," she welcomed him, more loudly. "I'll go get your date and tell her you're here."

"Thank you," he said, stepping inside the door. He watched as Tiffany raced up the nearby staircase to the second floor. He stayed on the landing, preferring to steer clear of the group of girls gawking at him from the living room. He smiled politely, raised an eyebrow and waved; they stared, giggled and waved back.

He ignored their continued scrutiny and turned his attention back to the staircase, waiting. His eyes were soon affronted by a flash of hot pink satin and sequins as a bedroom door opened at the top of the stairs. He tried not to cringe when it became clear that the gaudily-attired girl gliding down the stairs was his date for the evening.

He searched for her face above the blinding fabric, but it was hard to get past the twin peaks of her breasts, pushed up by the bodice of her dress into an impressive mountain of flesh. He glossed over the ample cleavage and focused on her smile instead. It was impossible to miss, because her lips were painted the exact shade of hot pink as her outfit. Then the lips moved, speaking his name.

"Edward Cullen. You have no idea how happy I am to finally meet you." She halted a few steps above him and grinned.

"The pleasure is all mine," came his knee-jerk response, though her greeting had smacked of insincerity. His eyes found hers, seeking an explanation. Their gaze reminded him of Rosalie's - icy blue, shrewd and calculating.

Her hand shot out, diverting his attention. Did she really want a handshake? Or just some help getting down the rest of the stairs?

"Jessica Stanley," she introduced herself. "But you can call me Jess, if you like."

"What do _you_ like?" he countered, taking her hand.

"I think I like you," she said with a large, disingenuous smile. "Tonight's going to be a blast, Edward. I can feel it. Or do prefer Ed?"

"I prefer Edward, Jessica," he replied smoothly.

She let out a raucous laugh at that. "Oh, I definitely like you, Edward." She grasped his hand to steady herself as she stepped down to the landing. "This is going to be a night to remember," she declared. She laughed again for no apparent reason and headed for the door, pulling him along after her.

He grimaced as he followed her out of the house. He hoped this college cocktail party had a few drinks for the grown-ups. He had the feeling that by the end of this night, he'd be looking for a way to forget.

* * *

><p><strong>I might be getting to a point in the story where I post chapters and then run away really fast. :**

**As always, thank you all so much for your support. I feel like Bartles & Jaymes when I say that, but it's true. (Anybody remember them?)**

**Many thanks to Cared for pre-reading the first part of this chapter. I'll try to forgive her for having a Lewinsky moment when she read the line,"It was the Deflowering Dress." ;D That's definitely NOT what I was going for there. But it made me laugh!**


	44. Chapter 44

Jessica Stanley was in her element.

Seated in the Four Seasons Grand Ballroom at a table overlooking Elliot Bay, she was surrounded by her best girlfriends and their suited-up dates, with a not-so-virgin cocktail in one hand and the arm of a drop-dead gorgeous guy in the other.

This was the life.

She smiled at her date and gave his forearm a squeeze. "Thanks for the vodka and cranberry," she said. "It certainly wouldn't have been the same with just the cranberry." She raised her glass, then grimaced at the ugly neon-orange bracelet that dangled from her wrist. The paper eyesore marking her as a minor was more than a minor irritant to her. Not only did she have to beg her date to get real drinks for her, the bracelet was tacky and clashed horribly with her dress.

"It's called a Cape Cod. And you're welcome," he replied in a low, velveteen voice. Very seductive, that tone. He lifted his gin and tonic in a matching toast and said, "I could get arrested for buying you drinks, you know."

"_That's_ what you're afraid of getting arrested for?" she retorted in amusement. "I would think that's the least of your worries."

His smirk faded. He looked like he was about to speak, but then pressed his lips together as if he thought better of it.

_That's right - hold your tongue, Edward Cullen, _she thought, with a smirk of her own. _You know which legality you should really worry about._

She appraised him for a moment, wondering if she would sleep with him at the end of the night. She must concede that Bella Swan had good taste. Ridiculously handsome, well-mannered, glibly charming - the man sitting next to her would be difficult to resist, especially after a few more vodkas. But when she thought about all the places his gabardine-concealed dick had been, a slight shudder went down her spine. Not to mention, she wasn't about to settle for Bella's sloppy seconds.

She still couldn't believe that the mousy girl she'd known in high school actually had the balls to hire a male prostitute. She'd assumed Bella's drunken admission at the dorm party last month had merely been a joke, or a substance-induced hallucination. Bella tried to play it off as such at her birthday celebration last week. But as soon as Jessica heard Mike and Riley talking about the "Edward" who'd showed up in a suit that Friday night to walk Bella's drunk ass home, she knew it was no joke, and no coincidence. How many young guys by the old-fashioned name of Edward were walking around the city? It had to be the same guy Bella claimed had taken her V-card.

She grimaced at the thought of paying a stranger to be her first, even though she could see the logic in it. A professional would undoubtedly know what he was doing, unlike the moronic frat boy she'd given it up to last year. And Edward Cullen certainly had a dreamy, Prince-Charming allure. But it was sad - no, pathetic - that Bella had bought the fantasy literally as well as figuratively. It was one thing to hire some gigolo for sex, but quite another to go around telling people he was her boyfriend. She knew that was the line Bella was feeding to Mike in order to put him off. He deserved better than that. He'd always deserved better than that oblivious girl, who never seemed to appreciate what she had. Apparently normal, good-hearted guys like Mike and Jacob Black weren't enough for her. She had to go trolling the internet for stud service instead. Mike deserved to know the unvarnished truth about her.

And tonight, if luck was on her side, Jessica would deliver it to him in spades.

She gave a sly smile to the good-luck charm sitting next to her. He gave her a careful smile in return. His wary expression made her wonder if he could somehow sense her plans for him this evening. Maybe Bella was one of his regular customers, and he'd told her what he was doing tonight. That would definitely put a monkey wrench in the works. But Jessica had a hard time believing that was the case. She doubted he discussed his clientele with one another. He'd have to be a complete idiot to do that. And regardless of whatever else he was, she could see that Edward Cullen was no dummy.

"So, have you come up with a cover story yet?" she asked him. During the ride to the hotel, Edward had inquired if she had any preferences for who she'd like him to pretend to be this evening. She didn't. He could claim he was an astronaut or a deep-sea diver for all she cared. By the end of the evening, the choice would be moot.

"I'm a professional pianist," he announced.

"Professional penis?" she exclaimed, a split-second before she realized what he'd actually said.

He gave her a patronizing look. "Pi-an-ist," he repeated, enunciating each syllable. "I'm a musician. A piano-player for a jazz group that plays in the area."

"Oh, right. Cool," she said with a shrug. "That'll work. Very classy."

"I'm glad you approve," he said with a curt smile.

Jessica's eyes strayed to the front of the ballroom, where a band was setting up. The musicians were dressed like 1950s Rat Packers to fit the retro theme of All-Greek Cocktail.

"Too bad your profession is lie - there's a baby grand piano up there," she noted. "You could impress the hell out of everyone if you actually played."

"Is that what you're after this evening? Impressing everyone?"

She was sure she detected a condescending tone in his voice, though his face was the picture of congeniality.

"Why else would I hire you for a big bash like this? I wanted to make an impact. And I'm pretty sure you'll do exactly that."

His eyes hardened with a quick flash of distaste, or maybe distrust. But his affable grin was immovable.

"Maybe I can slip a quick concerto in between sets from the band if you think that will annoy your ex-boyfriend, or whoever it is you're trying to make jealous. Assuming, of course, that you have a specific target in mind for this big impression you want to make."

Jessica should have known she wouldn't get much past this guy. He'd obviously been around the block a time or three. She put one elbow on the table and leaned toward him, debating. It was so tempting to spill the beans. But that would spoil all the fun. Patience, she reminded herself. Once Mike and Bella showed up, this whole web of deception would unravel all on its own.

All she had to do was sit back and wait for the precise moment to pull the thread.

"You assume correctly," she said, giving Edward a coy smile. "I do have a specific target in mind. But you don't need to worry about that. You just be your charming self and leave the rest up to me. But in the meantime, could you get me another drink? These martini glasses don't hold much." She waved the empty vessel before setting it back on the table.

He definitely looked a bit suspicious now, his perma-grin crumbling on one side. But he gave her a conciliatory nod, got up from the table and headed back to the bar. She took the opportunity to scour the ballroom for Mike's telltale spiky blond hair or Bella's pallid complexion in the throng. There were so many people here, they could be anywhere. To complicate matters, the Sycamore room across the foyer was rented for this shindig as well. It was decorated in a casino theme with card games being held at every table. Knowing Mike, he easily could be sidetracked with a round of poker and take his sweet time coming to the main ballroom.

She sighed and turned back to the table, reaching for the platter of crudités for something to munch on. The sorority sister to her right leaned in, heavily-lined eyes round with curiosity.

"Where the hell did you find that gorgeous guy sitting next to you?" she demanded. "He is hot and a half. I know I haven't seen him walking around campus."

"You wouldn't. He's not a student - he's a little older. He's a professional," Jessica said, trying not to snigger.

"Professional what?" the girl pressed. She eyed Edward up and down as he walked back toward their table.

"You really don't want to know," Jessica replied, not bothering to hold back a snort this time. "Don't worry, you'll find out soon enough."

Edward glanced at Jessica's smug countenance, then the baffled one of her friend, as he approached the table with two more drinks. The girls quickly parted and leaned back in their chairs, giving him matching grins of faux innocence.

"Should my ears be burning?" he wondered aloud, handing his date her second cranberry martini before sitting down.

"My friend here was just admiring your good looks and wondering what you did for a living," Jessica explained, nodding to the blonde on her right. The girl's cheeks turned scarlet.

"Ah. Thank you," he said to the blonde. And then to Jessica, "What did you tell her?"

"I hadn't gotten to that part yet. I was just about to tell her you're a professional . . ." she paused, enjoying the resulting alarm that flitted through Edward's eyes before she continued. ". . . _pi-an-ist_. If we're lucky, you'll wow us all later with your chops at the baby grand up there."

He gave her the same plastic half-grin he'd worn all evening. "I'll do my best not to disappoint you."

Jessica grinned back, but her eyes were cutting. "I'm counting on it, Edward."

.

.

.

"Wow."

That was all Bella said as she and Mike strolled down the modern but elegant foyer on the second floor of the Four Seasons hotel. Her fingers tightened around his elbow, sending a little surge of excitement through him. He glanced over at her face, watching her big, brown eyes take in the splendor. They hadn't even reached the ballroom yet, and she was already impressed.

"Nice, isn't it?" he commented. "Have you ever been here before?"

"No. It's pretty amazing."

"This is my first time here, too. I guess the party is in a couple of rooms - the Sycamore, up here on the right, and the ballroom on the left."

Bella nodded, peering to her right as they neared the entrance. The room had been turned into a makeshift casino, complete with a blackjack, roulette and poker tables. Dressed-up college kids milled around the room, gambling and ordering drinks from the bar at the back.

"Nice," Mike enthused, pausing at the door next to Bella. "Reminds me of our prom, but a hell of a lot swankier."

"No kidding," she agreed with a laugh.

"Want to check it out?" he asked.

"Sure." She looked agreeable enough, so he escorted her in. He searched the room for one of his fraternity brothers, hoping to find someone of age to get them real drinks. The matching orange bracelets he and Bella wore guaranteed an evening of kiddie cocktails if he didn't find someone to hook them up with the good stuff.

"See anyone you know?" she asked.

"Not yet. But I know a couple of Delt brothers who rented rooms upstairs so we can have a beer or something to take the edge off."

Bella shrugged. "I don't have to drink this evening," she said. "But if you want to, that's fine. I can drive us back to the dorms later."

"You don't need to do that," he protested. "I can get us a cab or we can crash in one of the rooms. I want you to have a good time, too."

She looked slightly offended. "I don't need to drink to have a good time."

"Oh, I know. I wasn't suggesting you did." He bit his tongue as he ambled along side her toward the bar. She dropped his elbow and crossed her arms instead.

Shit. Why did he always screw things up? He didn't want her to think he was trying to get her drunk. But the truth was, he did hope she'd have a couple of drinks so she'd loosen up and enjoy herself. He knew she wasn't as naturally social as he was, but he also knew she could have a lot of fun if she'd only let herself - if she'd just forget to be so shy and self-conscious. A little liquor might accomplish that and put her at ease.

He took a deep breath as they approached the bar. "Virgin cocktails it is. Any preferences?" he queried.

"No, not really. I don't really know drinks that well. Surprise me."

"Okay." He thought for a few seconds, then asked the bartender for suggestions. Moments later he walked away with two matching amber-colored drinks and handed one to Bella.

"Here you go - the alcohol-free version of a Surfer on Acid. I have no idea what they use instead of Jägermeister," he said with a laugh.

"Surfer on Acid?" Bella giggled and raised her glass. "Cool. I'll drink to that."

Mike took a swig of the pineapple concoction and sorely wished for the missing rum and Jäger to cut the sweetness.

"How about a game?" he suggested. "Maybe some roulette?"

She readily agreed, and they headed to the gaming tables. When their turn came at the roulette wheel, Mike asked Bella to pick her lucky number.

She paused for a moment, and then quietly said, "Twenty-four."

He thought he detected a certain softness, even tenderness, in her voice. He wondered what the hell that number signified to her. He wondered even more when the spinning marble miraculously plopped right into the twenty-four slot and Bella's face lit up like a Christmas tree. She grinned and fingered her charm bracelet, staring at it like it was some kind of oracle.

"Well, that was some nice beginner's luck," Mike commented. "Too bad we're only playing for chips instead of money."

"That's okay," said, still grinning. "Money isn't everything."

"True, that. I'd trade it for your company any day."

Bella rolled her eyes slightly and laughed. "Sure you would."

"I would!" he insisted. He took her arm again, and she didn't pull away. "How about we check out the ballroom?" he suggested, steering her toward the foyer.

She gamely followed him across the wide hallway to the entrance of the huge room, slowing as they neared the spectacle. The lushly carpeted space was lined with round linen-covered tables and chairs, lit by faux candles and adorned with fresh-cut flowers and platters of hors d'oeuvres. Taller, standing-room-only tables filled the center, with a large area carved out for dancing. A retro-style band was in full swing near the entryway, cranking out classics their grandparents had danced to interspersed with more modern songs the college kids would recognize. The eclectic mix had managed to jam the dance floor with grooving bodies. The scenic backdrop to the entire soirée was comprised of glass walls overlooking the moonlit waters of Puget Sound and Elliot Bay in the distance.

Mike felt Bella's fingers grip his arm once more. Her eyes were wide as she spoke. "There are so many people here."

"Well, there are almost four-thousand U-Dub students in the Greek system," he reminded her, closing his fingers protectively over hers. "If only half of them showed up tonight, the place would still be packed. That's why they rented two rooms, and tons of hotel rooms besides. It's a huge bash. Kind of the event of the season. That's why I didn't want to miss it. Or you, either."

She gave him a nod and a tiny smile, but she still looked uneasy.

"You want to dance?" he asked, thinking that blending into the crowd might be to her liking.

Instead, she looked even more panicked. "I'm not much of a dancer, remember?"

"Oh, yeah. That's right," he conceded. "I thought maybe you'd changed your attitude about that. You never know."

"No, I still have two left feet, for the most part," she claimed, though he didn't believe her. He really did want to get a glass of wine into her so she'd relax. Maybe he should have borrowed some of Riley's stash so they could get lit before they came inside.

He scanned the room and gratefully spotted a few of his Delt brothers holding down a table on one side of the dance floor. He pointed them out to Bella, and she looked relieved to have a place to sit. As luck would have it, a few chairs were empty, their occupants currently on the dance floor. Mike pulled out a seat for Bella and introduced her to his buddies and their dates. They all sat and talked for a bit, commenting on the party and confirming which rooms they'd reserved upstairs for later, after the ballroom closed down.

Mike watched Bella closely. He was pleased to see her unwind a little and participate in the conversation. She seemed like she was enjoying herself well enough. He hoped so. He wanted to show her a good time, especially if that boyfriend of hers couldn't. Maybe she would get tired of Suit Guy's occupation keeping him busy on the weekends; maybe she would turn to Mike again to pass the time. And then maybe, just maybe, eventually she'd turn to him for more than that.

The band's first set ended to sound of clapping and cheering. Soon the room was filled with the buzz of conversation and laughter instead, growing louder as more drinks were consumed. Mike leaned over to talk to the older frat brother on his left, enlisting his help in procuring some grown-up cocktails. He readily agreed to buy the drinks; Mike just needed to tag along and help carry them back to the table. He excused himself from Bella and followed his buddy to the bar at the back of the ballroom.

The line was long during the interim between music sets. Mike shifted his weight from one foot to the other, impatient to get back to Bella. He hoped she was doing all right, and that some of the girls at the table would talk to her. He hated to think of her sitting alone, feeling like a misfit. He never could understand why she always saw herself that way. She was smart, pretty and kind-hearted. Sure, she was shy and kind of clumsy, but in a cute way. Her awkwardness only endeared her to him. He longed to bring her out of her shell and give her some of his confidence; to make her see that she wasn't the square peg she made herself out to be.

He sighed in frustration as the line shuffled along. Piano music began to waft back to him over the crowd. Shit, was the band starting up again already? How long had he been back at the bar, anyway?

His Delt brother finally gave his order to the bartender and paid the bill. Mike shoved his telltale orange bracelet under his suit jacket sleeve and picked up the drinks for him and Bella, thanking his buddy before hurrying back to the table. When he arrived, she was nowhere to be found. He looked around frantically for her blue dress and long, dark hair, trying to calm himself. She probably just went to the ladies room. He turned to one of his friends' dates for information.

"Have you seen Bella?" he questioned her.

She pointed toward the dance floor. "I think she's watching that guy playing the piano."

Mike turned his head toward the front of the room, then began walking in that direction. Sure enough, there she was, standing at the edge of a small crowd that had gathered not far from the platform where the band's instruments were set up. He could see her rigid posture as he approached, her back ramrod straight as she stood eerily still.

His eyes shifted to the baby grand that sat next to the platform. A man was seated there, playing an intricate, haunting melody - just the type of music to make chicks swoon, he thought with a grimace. He couldn't see the man's face clearly, as he was seated in profile, his back to their side of the room. But he soon recognized the girl in the hot-pink dress standing next to the piano. She was leaning on the instrument with a possessive assurance that earmarked her as the piano-player's date.

He stared at her a moment, then chuckled to himself. Jessica Stanley did say she'd be bringing a guy who would "blow everyone out of the water." Judging by the group of girls - Bella included - swarming the piano, she hadn't been wrong.

When the impromptu concert came to an end, everyone applauded and hooted in appreciation.

"Edward Cullen, ladies and gentlemen!" Jessica exclaimed, clapping in loud exaggeration. Mike's mouth dropped open in shock at her proclamation. His head whipped back to scrutinize the pianist. Sure enough, it was Suit Guy.

Bella's Suit Guy.

Mike gaped at Jessica in horror as understanding dawned. She stared back at him, eyes wild with triumphant delight. Then she trained her sights on Bella, and her expression grew positively evil.

Mike watched helplessly, still holding a drink in each hand, as Jessica strode over to the piano bench, grabbed Suit Guy by the face and gave him a huge, wet kiss.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, I know. How could I end it here? I may be as evil as Jessica. <strong>

**Thanks for all the great feedback on the last chapter, everyone. Most of you were dreading the impending drama, while others were looking forward to it. Obviously there's more to come, so hang on tight! I promise everything will work out all right. Eventually. ;)**

**Heaps of gratitude go to Cared for her great suggestions. They were especially invaluable this chapter!**

**Oh, if anyone's wondering why Bella chose 24 as her lucky number, it happens to be Edward's age in this story. **


	45. Chapter 45

"What sorority are you in?"

The girl nearest Bella at the table gave her an expectant look. Bella knew her answer would result in instant dismissal.

"I'm not in one. I'm just a friend of Mike's."

"Oh." The girl still smiled brightly, but her eyes went dull. "How long have you known him?"

She was making perfunctory small talk now, but Bella complied.

"About four years. We dated a little in high school."

The girl's eyes lit up again. "Oh, so you're rekindling the old flame?"

_Mike wishes, _Bella thought. "No, we're just friends."

The girl smiled knowingly. "Oh, I get it. Friends with benefits. It's always good to have a black-up plan while you keep your options open. Especially with a sausage fest like this one at your disposal. Am I right?"

The girl let out a raucous laugh as her eyes combed the room full of well-dressed young men. Bella tried not to openly cringe at the remark. She had no idea where to begin to refute it.

She simply gave a limp smile, sighed and looked toward the back of the room. She wished she'd followed Mike to the bar instead of sitting here, feeling like a fish out of water. She was debating going to find him when she heard it.

Piano music.

She immediately thought of Edward and smiled wistfully. What she wouldn't give to be here with him tonight instead of Mike. Or, better yet, to be with Edward somewhere else, having a much more low-key evening together.

The music was quite lovely, a lilting melody that reminded her of the first night he'd played for her, when he'd added his own composition to the end of a much more intense piece. She twisted in her chair, looking over her shoulder to the piano near the mini-stage at the front of the room.

Then she froze.

_Edward._

What was he doing here? The thrill of recognition was soon replaced by the horror of realization. There was only one answer to that question. If he was here, then he was on a date.

Her stomach dropped, like she'd just plummeted fifty feet on a roller coaster. She was surprised at her visceral reaction. She thought she had come to grips with his job, especially since he had promised that sex would no longer be a part of it. Even so, it was easier to deal with when she could push aside thoughts of the nameless, faceless females he courted, and the places he courted them.

But now, the place was real. It had a name; a physical identity. So would Edward's date, if Bella stuck around long enough to discover who she was. The panic rolling through her gut in waves was evidence that she was not nearly as ready to handle that revelation as she hoped she'd be. There was no ignoring the truth any longer. It was beckoning her in deceptively dulcet tones from the baby grand at the end of the ballroom.

Bella could barely feel her body as she rose from the table. Her feet were moving, but her brain had forfeited all responsibility for their actions. Her brain wanted her to stay right at this table and pretend she was wrong, and that wasn't Edward serenading this room full of college students. In lieu of that option, her brain urged her to run. Just run like hell and never look back.

But her feet glided slowly, inexorably to the dance floor, where a small crowd had gathered to hear this handsome stranger create magic on the keys. As she approached, she catalogued each detail of his physique that she knew so well: the long, slender body; the broad shoulders; the nimble, elegant fingers dancing over the keyboard. There was the bronze sheen of the ducktail tickling his neck, centered between small, telltale beauty marks - the same marks she had covered with kisses. They led to the strong jaw she had stroked and nuzzled; the beard stubble she had felt between her thighs, massaging her to delirious heights of abandonment.

She could not see the rest of his face from where she was standing, but she didn't need to. She already knew his beautiful features were molded by intense concentration. His body moved with the music, leg pumping the piano pedals, head nodding in time. She could see the sweep of his eyelashes over his cheek when he closed his eyes to savor the sound. In this moment, he was a man possessed by his art; and she was a woman possessed by his passion—for music; for her. He had to be playing for her. She could not conceive of him playing such a poignant melody for anyone else.

He was hers. Hers and no one else's.

She nervously fingered her bracelet to remind herself of that truth, in the face of the new and awful one that greeted her now. For leaning on the other side of the baby grand in a garish, attention-seeking dress was the embodiment of the ugly truth she must now acknowledge.

And the name of that truth was Jessica Stanley.

Bella gaped at her, dumbfounded. She blinked. She blinked again. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Yet there was no mistaking that smug grin, frosty blue stare and cavernous cleavage. They belonged to a girl Bella had once called a friend, and later, a "frenemy."

But there was no friend left in this foe.

Jessica's self-satisfaction was all too apparent as she leaned possessively over the piano. She seemed to be laying claim to the talented man sitting there, like he was somehow her own personal triumph. The puzzle pieces began to fall into place as Bella stared. This was no coincidence. Not only had Jessica never forgotten Bella's drunken slip about hiring someone from Renaissance Escorts, she had remembered Edward's name. When it came up again at the bar last week, Jess had obviously put two and two together, then checked out Bella's story to see if it was true. Mike inviting Bella to this party was probably all the incentive Jessica needed to use her newfound knowledge to exact a little revenge - not only for tonight, but for the Forks High School Prom nearly two years ago.

Bella continued to stare, the panic in her gut escalating. Even she had never known her former friend could be this calculating, this vindictive. But if she hadn't realized it before, Jessica drove the point home with nauseating clarity the minute Edward finished playing. She looked Bella right in the eyes to make sure she was watching before she attacked him with a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss.

Bella thought she would throw up, right there on the plush carpet beneath her feet. How dare that vile wench touch him? How dare she violate him like that?

_She paid for the right. That's how she dared_, a sadistic voice in her head reminded her.

The bile rose in Bella's throat. She fought it back, but her face grew clammy. She had to get out of here. If she didn't get out of here, she would faint.

Her head was spinning when she heard a familiar voice break over the continued clapping and cheering that surrounded her.

"Jess! What the hell are you doing?"

Mike was suddenly there, standing a few feet to her left, still holding fresh drinks in his hands. She couldn't quite zero in on him, but she could see him out of the corner of her eye. She focused on the amber liquid sloshing around in the lowball glasses he carried. If she looked back at the piano, she would be sick.

"What does it look like I'm doing? I'm kissing my date," she heard Jessica say, her tone reeking of entitlement. Bella could hear the rustle of her loud dress coming closer. Every hair on her body bristled in revulsion.

"Your date?!" The incredulity in Mike's voice was impossible to miss. "What the fuck are you doing on a date with Bella's boyfriend?"

Jessica's answering cackle was sharp and cruel, cutting Bella to the bone. "See, that's the beauty of it, Mike. Edward here will be _anyone's_ boyfriend, if the price is right. And tonight, he's mine. Isn't that right, Edward?"

Bella's eyes slammed shut. She wished she could shut her ears as well. She didn't want to hear, let alone see, the train wreck piling up in front of her—especially since she was the one tied to the tracks in its path.

"Get your hands off me," she heard an unmistakable velveteen voice hiss. And then, closer: "Bella, open your eyes. Look at me."

But she could not. She was frozen in a cocoon of silence, eyes squeezed shut, trying to disappear.

"What the hell are you talking about, Jess?" she heard Mike demand.

"Let me spell it out for you. Edward Cullen is a gigolo. A literal, fucking male prostitute. She hired him for sex—didn't you, Bella? Mike, you remember that crazy story she was telling us at your dorm party when she was drunk? About paying an escort to take her virginity? Well, she wasn't joking. It was the truth. I guess you and Jake weren't man enough for her—she had to go shopping online for the perfect prick to pop her cherry."

"Shut. Your goddamned. Mouth." The velvet voice shook with barely controlled fury. Bella could envision Edward's livid face in her mind, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. She was too busy trying not to vomit, or pass out. She finally opened her eyes a sliver, but fixed them unseeingly to the fleur-de-lis pattern on the carpet between her shoes.

"Excuse me? I'm the one calling the shots tonight, not you. I paid very well for that privilege, remember?"

"Which makes you no better or worse than Bella, you do realize," Edward snarled. His tone changed abruptly. "Baby, don't listen to her. You don't have to take this. Let me get you out of here."

"Are you serious?" Mike's confusion and denial were apparent. "What are the two of you trying to pull here? This is bullshit. Bella, tell me this is complete bullshit. It can't be true. Tell me you didn't actually _pay_ this douche-bag to . . ."

She heard his voice falter and die. What she had done was clearly unthinkable to him—not to mention everyone else within earshot. Their shocked whispers and barely stifled laughter ricocheted between her ears as loudly as the gut-churning conversation taking place in front of her. She wondered if it was possible to die of mortification. She felt like a pillar of fire, burning head to toe in excruciating humiliation, yet somehow encased under an icy shell that rendered her immobile.

"Bella, don't let them do this." Velveteen softness at her right, coming closer. "Look at me. Let me help you." She thought she saw his hand in her peripheral vision, reaching out to her; but she couldn't seem to move her eyes, let alone her limbs.

"Oh, please." Jessica's snort was derisive. "She's fine. She's just embarrassed as hell to admit what she did, and for good reason. Mike, you've always had such a blind spot when it comes to her, and she uses it to her advantage. She's been stringing you along while she pretended to be dating Edward, when he's nothing more than a hired hand. And other parts." She snorted again; Bella's stomach lurched. "You deserved to know the truth. You've always deserved better than her."

"Oh, and I suppose that's you? Someone who claims to be her friend, and mine, but then sets us both up to be publicly humiliated? With friends like that, who the hell needs enemies?"

"You can't seriously be taking her side. She hired a male hooker to fuck her! After you tried to get in her pants all through high school and she always said no. _She's_ the one who humiliated you! How can you forgive her for that? For resorting to something so low—so _trashy_?"

Bella's head spun like a top. She could feel her equilibrium give way as her ankles wobbled and her knees buckled. The velvet voice cried out her name. A strange commotion immediately followed, punctuated by a loud shriek. The last thing she saw was the fleur-de-lis surging up to meet her before everything went black.

.

.

.

Edward caught Bella before she ever hit the ground.

He'd been watching her like a hawk throughout the entire tawdry exchange. He didn't give a flying fuck what that bitch, Jessica, said about him, or what any of the overdressed co-eds in this giant ballroom thought. The problem was, Bella did. She clearly couldn't handle being called out on the carpet like this in front of her peers. He'd never seen her so pallid, so devoid of color. She'd changed from beet-red to snow-white in the space of a few minutes, and that's when he began to really worry.

He wished he had grabbed her sooner. Just grabbed her hand and pulled her out of this situation before his disgusting date had time to spew her vitriol. But the truth was, it had taken him a couple of minutes to even figure out what the hell was going on.

He'd been mostly annoyed, and slightly repulsed, when Jessica had laid that kiss on him. He'd fought the urge to wipe his mouth with his hand afterward. But when he turned and saw the true target of her attack, he was stunned.

What was Bella doing here? She wasn't in a sorority. A U-Dub Greek function at a four-star hotel was the last place he ever thought he'd find her. And yet, there she was, in that unforgettable blue dress; staring at Jessica with a horror and betrayal he hoped to never again see in her eyes.

His horror matched her own in that moment. How? Why? What was going on?

Her eyes left his and flashed to her left. Edward's followed, to find that idiot Mike Newton standing there, his astonishment nearly equal to theirs. Edward didn't even know the guy was in a fraternity. Bella had never mentioned that. And she'd certainly never mentioned she'd be attending this party with him, or Edward would have found a substitute escort for Jessica. He never would have knowingly subjected Bella to seeing him on a paid date like this.

But his pangs of regret soon grew to stabs of pain when he realized what Bella was truly being subjected to. Every ugly word that fell from Jessica Stanley's lips filled him in, letting him know that his presence here was no mere coincidence, but part of a personal vendetta in which he was an unwitting pawn. Why had Bella never mentioned this girl's name before? Had she even realized how Jessica had it in for her?

He'd get the answers later. For now, he had to save Bella. He watched helplessly as she visibly shrunk under this harpy's accusations, folding into herself like a collapsing house of cards. She didn't seem to hear him speaking to her, or simply couldn't respond. The second he saw her going down, he shoved arguing Jessica and Mike out of the way and grabbed her up in his arms before she hit the carpet. She fell limply against him, a tiny rag doll in his embrace.

"I've got you, baby," he whispered, scooping her up in his arms. "Wake up, Bella. I'm here. I love you. Wake up."

He continued to murmur in her ear as he adjusted her in his arms so he could carry her outside.

"You ruined my dress, you asshole!" Jessica screeched, at either him or Mike, he wasn't sure which. A quick glance proved that in his haste to catch Bella, he'd pushed her into the drinks Mike had been holding, thoroughly dousing her tacky outfit.

"Looks like a vast improvement to me," he spat as he elbowed past her, an unconscious Bella cradled to his chest.

He carried her out to the chair-lined foyer and looked around for a vacant seat. Bella stirred slightly, her head moving against his chest.

"What happened?" she slurred.

"Your worst nightmare," he muttered, taking her to an isolated corner and sitting her carefully in one of overstuffed armless chairs. "And you survived."

He gave her a grim smile as he knelt on the floor next to her. "Now, I want you to lean forward and put your head between your knees for a minute or two. Can you do that for me?"

She nodded woozily and bent over, elbows on her thighs, face in her hands. Edward rubbed her shoulders and back in long, gentle strokes. She finally turned her head sideways to look at him.

"Did I black out?"

He nodded. "You scared the hell out of me."

"I'm sorry." She felt one fat, hot tear roll down her cheek.

"You have nothing to be sorry about. Not one fucking thing. No matter what anyone tries to tell you."

He reached up to wipe the tears from her face. He hated what all of this had done to her. He felt as culpable as Jessica in this mess, despite his ignorance to her scheme. He was the one who'd remained a gun for hire. How did he ever think he could keep Bella out of the line of fire?

"Bella . . . are you okay?"

Edward looked up to see Mike standing there, mouth hanging open. He looked as shell-shocked as he sounded. He reached a tentative hand out to touch her, but Edward's glare stopped him cold.

"I'm okay, Mike. I just got blindsided for a minute, that's all."

Leave it to Bella to downplay what she'd just gone through. Edward continued to stroke her back, her hair, while Mike fumbled around for words.

"That's good. Shit, that was brutal, what Jess just did in there. I know she can be bitchy, but I had no idea she'd do something like this. You know, bring Suit-Guy—" he halted at Edward's questioning gaze— "uh, Edward to this party, just to fuck with us." He paused and pulled at his shirt collar, like it was cutting off his breath. "She wasn't serious, was she? About the hiring? And . . . the virginity. . . ?" Mike trailed off with a grimace.

"Now is not the time for this," Edward warned him.

"No, it's fine." Bella took a deep breath and slowly raised herself to a sitting position. She looked at Mike with weary resignation. "It's true. Everything she said was true."

Mike stared at her blankly. He obviously didn't want to hear that, or absorb its implications.

"She was wrong about one thing," Edward said. Bella gave him a curious look. "I'm not with Bella because she pays me—she doesn't. I'm with her because I love her."

Her eyes pooled with tears again. Edward grabbed her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

Mike still looked confused. "But you _are_ an escort, right? And Jessica did hire you for tonight?"

He took Edward's guilty silence as confirmation. He shook his head in disbelief, shifting his focus to Bella. "And you're _okay_ with that? With him sleeping around on the side, for money?"

"He doesn't sleep with them," she quietly denied, but her eyes couldn't quite meet Mike's.

He erupted in an incredulous guffaw. "Oh, sure, of course not. He doesn't actually have sex with any of them." He let out another hysterical laugh. "I'm sure that's what he tells you. I just can't believe you fall for it. Wow." He looked up at Edward and shook his head again. "That's some snow job, Cullen. You're good, I'll give you that."

Edward stood and took a menacing step toward Mike, fists clenched. "That's enough from you. You don't know a damned thing about either of us, so shut your fucking mouth before I shut it for you."

Mike glared back, nostrils flaring, mouth twisted in disgust. "Apparently I don't," he agreed. He glanced down at Bella. "I guess I never knew you at all."

The disillusionment in his voice cut her more deeply than the contempt. She closed her eyes and let out a ragged sigh as he turned and walked back into the ballroom. Edward immediately dropped to his knees in front of her, reaching out to cradle her face in his hands.

"Don't listen to him. I'm not lying to you. You know that, don't you?"

Another tear escaped, making her frown. She wanted to be done with tears already. "I believe you," she said. "I know you wouldn't do that to me."

"Do you?" he asked. Traces of doubt lingered in her voice, despite her reassurances. "I know how much I'm asking when I ask you to trust me. Have they made you doubt that trust?"

More tears. She reached up and angrily wiped them away before Edward could. He dropped his hands to her lap, gripping her knees. The warmth surged up her legs, calming and protective. She looked at his face, stricken with worry, desperate for an answer. Those were the eyes she trusted. The ones she was desperate to believe in.

"No," she said adamantly. "I won't let their petty bullshit come between us."

Edward's face relaxed slightly and he let out a grateful chuckle. "That's my girl. Fuck 'em, right?"

"Right." But despite her smile, she sounded less than convincing, and her eyes were still rimmed with red. Edward reached up to stroke the hair at her temple, pushing it off of her face. He repeated the gesture a few more times in an effort to soothe her. But he still wondered what upset her most: lingering doubts she might have about him, or being humiliated in a vast sea of her peers.

"Do you know what I thought when you first told me the story about Jake, and why you hired me?" he asked her.

She frowned and shook her head.

"I thought you were really brave," he said. When she smiled at that, he added, "And crazy." Her smile faded. "Brave for being so decisive about what you wanted, and hiring me to make that happen. But crazy for caring what Jake, and all the other judgmental kids at that party, thought of you. I don't understand why their opinions meant so much to you that you would do something so drastic. I don't understand it now," he confessed, his eyes glancing to the ballroom next to them.

Bella stared, her eyes brimming over again. He had finally posed the question that had stumped her whenever she tried to answer it, even to herself.

"I. . . I don't know," she began haltingly. The earnestness of his gaze had her delving deep for answers. "Maybe it comes from a lifetime of being picked last for the team in gym class because I'm so uncoordinated. Or laughed at in the locker room because I was the only eight-grader who still didn't need a bra. Or passed over by the boys at every dance because they never noticed me. No one ever noticed. I mean, my mom was pretty much my best friend when I was growing up. I never felt like I fit in with anyone my age until I moved to Forks when I was sixteen. And that misfit girl is still in here somewhere, after all this time. I keep trying to outgrow her, but she still finds me and trips me up, at the worst possible times."

Edward ached inside at her words. Kids were cruel, sure, but she'd seemed to take every slight to heart and let it fester there instead of letting it go. He imagined that each new tear he wiped away with his thumb was another latent insecurity coming to the surface, finally being released.

"Mike noticed you," he said. "He was the first, right?"

She nodded. "He actually picked me first for his volleyball team, even though I always nailed him in the head with the ball." She laughed, then sniffled. "I was just flattered he wanted to date me. I thought that would be enough to make me feel the same way about him. Instead, I just ended up hurting him. And Jessica, though I didn't know it at the time. She never let on how much she liked him. I didn't find out until later. And I never knew just how much resentment she had toward me until now."

Edward nodded slowly as the picture became clearer. "Bella, you have to understand something. Any unintentional pain you caused them doesn't even come close to what they did to you tonight, especially Jessica. She was intentionally, excessively cruel to you. You didn't deserve that. No one deserves that kind of public humiliation. But my guess is that this will all backfire on her in a big way. Maybe she succeeded in changing Mike's feelings about you, but in the process she probably changed his feelings about her, too. You may think he'll never forgive you for not loving him, but when all is said and done, she's the one he won't forgive. And she'll be the one suffering because of it. Not you. She brought it on herself. I'm just sorry she was able to use me to do it, and hurt you so badly in the process."

His voice grew low and hoarse. "I hate that I hurt you. I'm so sorry. Please forgive me."

She stared at him, trying to take in everything he'd just said. Somehow he'd managed to shoulder part of the blame in Jessica's machinations. She wanted to argue with him, but maybe he was right. All of them had played a part in the ugly scene that transpired tonight. There was no point in playing the blame game now.

"There's nothing to forgive," she told him. She placed her hand over his as it cupped her face. "You didn't know who she was or what she was up to. I never thought there was any reason to tell you about her. I kept trying to push Mike in her direction. I even tried to get him to ask her to this party instead. I wish he'd asked her first, before it was too late."

Edward took her hands in his and let them rest on her lap. He looked down at her tiny fingers entwined in his, nestled on that blue satin he remembered so well. Why had she worn that dress? He frowned, knowing he shouldn't ask, but he couldn't stop himself.

He raised his head to look her straight in the eyes. "Bella, why, did you come here with him tonight?"

Her forehead creased; her eyes were filled with regret. "To distract myself. So I wouldn't sit around, wondering what you were doing on another Saturday night." She let out a wry laugh. "Got my wish, didn't I?"

Edward's eyes closed; he took a deep breath. "I didn't get out soon enough," he muttered. He raised her hands to his and tenderly kissed her knuckles. "I'm sorry."

"Stop," she ordered. "Stop blaming yourself for Jessica's vindictiveness. You were here to catch me when I fell. That's all I care about."

The light finally returned to Edward's eyes. "Prove it," he said with a challenging smile. "Prove that she can't touch us—that she hasn't won. She thinks she succeeded in bringing you down, making you a laughing stock. Don't give her the satisfaction."

Bella brows knitted warily. "How?"

He heard the band begin to play again, starting their second set. He nodded toward the ballroom, gave Bella's hands a squeeze and said, "Dance with me."

Her eyes grew round with anxiety. "I can't."

"I know you think you can't, but I don't believe that. You're stronger than you know. You can stand up to them. I'll help you."

"No, I mean . . . I can't dance," she admitted. "At all."

Edward couldn't help but smile at that. "I'll teach you," he promised. "You just follow my lead. You know I won't let you fall."

She looked into his eyes and knew there was little she could refuse him, even though she wanted to go back in that room like she wanted to stick hot pokers in her eyes. Enduring public ridicule was, indeed, her worst nightmare. But maybe she needed to face it in order for it to stop haunting her.

Edward could see the dread on her face. He was desperate to help her conquer this demon.

"Bella, do you know anyone else in that room, aside from Mike and Jessica?"

"No, not really."

"So they're all strangers, most of whom you won't likely see again, unless you start hanging out at frat parties. Right?"

"Right. And I really don't see that happening after tonight," she said with a bitter laugh.

"Exactly. So their opinions really don't matter in the grand scheme of things, do they?"

She balked. They shouldn't matter. So why did they?

And then, self-realization dawned.

"They matter because part of me agrees with them," she said, so quietly that Edward could barely hear her.

He stared at her, his heart thumping uneasily. "What do you mean?"

"What I did . . . hiring someone to take my virginity . . . It isn't normal. My whole thought process in doing that wasn't normal. Thinking that having sex would change me; force me to grow up. Make me confident and impervious to everyone's opinions about me."

Edward could see the epiphany written all over Bella's face as she spoke. He held his breath, and his tongue, while he waited for her to continue.

"But it was my own opinion I didn't like. My own judgments about myself. So their judgments are just a giant mirror reflecting back at me. If everyone agrees with my assessment, then we can't all be wrong, can we? They're just affirming what I already know about myself; what I don't like about myself. That's why it hurts. That's why it's so hard to ignore."

Edward swallowed hard. "Do you regret hiring me? Do you regret us?"

"No," she insisted. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me. The one good thing that came out of my mistakes. I only regret how we got here. I know I can't change it. But it's just hard to accept sometimes. Whenever I realize I won't ever be able to admit to my mom and dad how I met you, that's when I know that deep down, I'm ashamed of it."

She could see the flash of pain in Edward's eyes before he looked down at their hands, still folded tightly on her lap.

"You once told me you could never be ashamed of me," he whispered. He looked up again, his eyes beseeching. "Has that changed?"

"No." She gripped his hands more tightly. "I'm not ashamed of you. I'm ashamed of myself."

He took a deep breath, his mouth twisting in frustration. "So it's okay for me to make mistakes, but not you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean? We're in this together, Bella. I'm no prouder of being a gigolo than you are of hiring one. We've each made mistakes; done things we regret. Maybe neither one of us is normal, whatever that means. If being normal means being perfect, then I guarantee you that not one person in that ballroom fits the bill. Every single one of them has done something they're not proud of. Something that would make them as mortified as you were if it was exposed in front of a room full of people.

"At some point, you have stop beating yourself up for not living up to whatever ideal you have in your head. You're human. You're going to fuck up sometimes. You need to stop judging yourself and start forgiving yourself. Cut yourself the same slack you cut me." Edward let go of her hands in order to wipe away the brand new tear that trickled down her right cheek. "Give yourself the same unconditional love you give me. Love yourself the way I love you."

She felt another tear spill as soon as Edward wiped the first one away. He was hitting her with a truth even more profound than the one she'd just uncovered. She knew he was right. She thought back to the poem she'd written when she first met him, detailing her struggle to accept herself. She'd known then that his acceptance and love was the key to her finding the same within herself. Now she realized just how right she'd been.

"I don't regret a single thing about us, Bella. I've hated myself for the past two years for prostituting myself, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat if I knew you were waiting for me at the end of it. Every minute I've spent with you was worth it. I wouldn't dream of trading any of it for a perfect track record. If either of us had been _normal_, we never would have met."

"I would never trade one moment with you, either. For anything." She sniffed back her tears and reached out to touch him, to rest her hands on either side of his neck, thumbs stroking his square jaw. "I like to think we would have found each other somehow, anyway. That we were destined to be together. I felt it that first night—that there was a reason we met."

"And you were right," he agreed. "But maybe tonight was part of that reason. Part of the journey you had to take. You have a chance to let go of all of it now. All those unrealistic expectations of yourself. Your guilt at not living up to them. Your regret over whatever mistakes you think you've made. This is your chance to be free."

Bella smiled through her tears. She knew he was referring to their conversation the night they met, when she thought he was the one in need of freedom.

"Thanks for not throwing my words back at me," she said with a rueful laugh.

"Hey, they were wise words. And they weren't the only ones. You told me to fuck the rules, remember? Don't let anyone tell you what's normal and what's not. What's forgivable and what's not. Be proud of who you are."

He smiled, then stood up and held out his hand.

"Dance with me, Bella."

Edward was right. Maybe it was time for her to take her own advice. If he loved her, she could certainly find it in her heart to love herself. And that was the only opinion that really mattered.

She took a deep breath and put her hand in his. Then she stood tall and walked with him back to the ballroom.

* * *

><p><strong>See? That wasn't so bad by the end. This chapter actually ended a lot differently than I had planned. Sometimes Edward and Bella write themselves, and I let them.<strong>

**In retrospect, I would have included the first part of this chapter in the last one, ending where Bella passed out. I had planned to be out of town this weekend and feared that if I didn't update last week, three weeks would pass without me posting a chapter. My plans changed, though, so I was able to finish this chapter and update after all. Just another disadvantage of posting while writing.**

**Thanks for hanging in there, everyone. I truly appreciate it. And as always, thanks to Cared for giving great feedback and talking me off the ledge a few times. Big hugs to you all.**


	46. Chapter 46

**Sorry it's been so long, everyone. Even though this chapter isn't long, real life and and an elusive muse still conspired against me finishing it as soon as I would have liked.**

**Boundless thanks to all the usual suspects. Your kind words and support have kept me going more than you know.**

**When we last left our duo, Edward had just convinced Bella to go back into the ballroom and face the music, so to speak. Without further ado:**

* * *

><p>Bella grasped Edward's hand so tightly that his palm began to sweat. No matter. He wouldn't let go, no matter how slippery his grip became.<p>

He led her slowly, resolutely, to the dance floor as the band's guitarist began to pick out a mournful melody. The dancing co-eds parted like the Red Sea to allow them entrance. Their round eyes and gaping mouths made them resemble judgmental fish, waiting for the new pair of sinners in their school to sink or swim.

Bella was going to swim, even if he had to carry her. Even if the sharks circled in for the kill. He would make sure she survived.

Edward was grateful when the band's sole female member began to sing a slow blues lament, drowning out the ugly whispers all around them.

_Don't you be wasting all your money_

_On syrup and honey. . ._

Edward turned to face Bella, lifting her right hand in the air and placing his left at her waist, drawing her closer. She rested her left hand on his shoulder while the other gripped his hand so tightly that his fingers tingled. No matter. He would hang on until his entire arm went numb if that's what she needed.

_Because I'm sweet enough. . ._

Bella was staring at his tie, looking like the same frightened fawn he'd encountered the first time he ever saw her. He hoped this would be the last time she was ever this helpless and lost.

_Don't you be using every minute_

_On making a living. . . _

"Bella." He moved his hand from her waist to her chin, lifting it gently. "Look at me."

Her nervous eyes leapt up to his, and once he caught them, he refused to let go.

"You just keep your eyes on me, and your ears on the music. Nothing else matters."

She bit her lip and nodded. She could do that. Those were the eyes she trusted; these were the hands that wouldn't let her fall. He began to sway in time to the music, and she moved haltingly with him, letting him guide her.

_Because we've got our love. . . _

"Do you think Jessica was telling the truth? That that girl hired him to take her virginity?"

Bella winced at the offhand comment from the perimeter of the dance floor. Edward shook his head ever so slightly, silently urging her to ignore the remarks. She resisted squeezing her eyes shut and kept them focused on the blue-green buoys before her. They would keep her afloat.

_Listen to me_

_One, two, three_

_Baby, baby, baby_

_Spend your time on me. . ._

"So what if she did hire him? Hell, I would, too. Look at him!"

_Don't you be out all night long. . ._

"Shut up, you would not. He's not that hot."

"Hotter than anyone _you'll_ ever date."

_Leaving me all alone. . ._

"Well, at least I don't have to _pay _someone to have sex with me."

_Because I need your love. . ._

Bella's eyes filled with tears. She blinked them back, swallowed hard and squeezed Edward's hand. He slid his other arm around her back, pulling her tightly to him. His eyes reminded her again what was important—what was true—and what was not.

_Don't you be spending every day_

_Working away_

_Because I'm waiting for you_

_Listen to me_

_One, two, three. . ._

As much as the harpoons of gossip thrown at them wounded Bella, the lyrics of the song pierced Edward. They spelled out his shortcomings with a poignancy that bludgeoned him into sense.

_Baby, baby, baby_

_Spend your time on me_

_Spend it, spend it, spend it_

_Your time on me_

_Please, baby. . ._

He stared into Bella's pleading brown eyes as the soulful melody washed around them.

_Please, baby. . . _

And in that moment, he knew he was through. This was the last night he would spend as an employee of Renaissance Escorts.

Edward smiled down at Bella as the song came to a close.

"We made it," he whispered.

She nodded and gave him a quick smile in return. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to her forehead in a reverent kiss. The breath of her sigh was cool on his neck, her body limp with relief in his arms. His own feelings of freedom were overwhelming. He didn't know how he was going to manage to walk away from escorting, but he would figure something out, somehow. Hell, he probably wouldn't have to quit. Jessica would most likely make such a stink about tonight that Rosalie would have no choice but to fire him.

The blare of the next song began, an up-tempo number that had the couples around them separating and bobbing up and down en masse to the beat.

"You want to get out of here?" Edward asked Bella.

"Yeah," she admitted. "Please."

He gave her another quick peck on the forehead before turning and steering her toward the door. They were halfway to the exit when a shriek of outrage stopped them in their tracks.

"And just where do you think you're going?" demanded Jessica Stanley, heading them off at the pass. She planted herself in front of Edward, hands on hips, and glared up at him.

"Frankly, anywhere else but here," he replied coldly.

"Aren't you forgetting something? You're my date this evening, not hers." She paused to give Bella a disparaging look before turning her attention back to Edward. "I own your ass right now, and everything connected to it. On top of that, you owe me a new dress. But I've decided to be forgiving and let you work it off for me later—in private."

Bella gaped at her, shocked at her audacity. She couldn't be serious.

"I'm surprised you want to continue this charade," Edward said, his tone caustic. "You made it pretty clear where you stand on the subject of hiring an escort. Or have your standards lowered in the last twenty minutes?"

Jessica gave him a withering look, then shot Bella a downright sneer. "You're right. Like I'd want to scrape the barrel for your leftovers anyway, let alone pay for them."

Fury rose in Bella's chest, hot and explosive. "It sure didn't stop you from going after Mike, did it?"

Jessica's eyebrows shot up in surprise before her eyes narrowed. "Mike always deserved better than the scraps you gave him. He followed you around like a lovesick puppy all through high school, and when you finally went out with him, it was like you were throwing a pathetic dog a bone. If you think I'm sorry for exposing your dirty little secret so he'd finally see the truth about you, you're wrong."

"It's nice to know what you really think of me, Jess," a fourth voice cut through the noise, low and bitter.

Jessica blanched, then whirled to see Mike behind her. The cutting glare he gave her had her scrambling to remove her foot from her mouth.

"I didn't mean it like that. I just meant you were nothing but wonderful to Bella and she treated you like you were something stuck to the bottom of her shoe."

"Like dog shit, you mean?" he barked. "Well, this just gets better and better. Any other canine analogies you want to come up with to tell me what a clueless idiot I am?"

"Mike, come on. You're taking this all wrong. You know what I'm trying to say," Jessica pleaded.

"Yeah, I think I do, actually. You've never had any respect for me, or my decisions. Well, maybe you can respect this one: I'm through with you," he hissed. He turned from Jessica's horrified stare to Bella's apologetic one. "Both of you," he added quietly, almost regretfully. His mouth was twisted in a grimace as he did an about-face and marched to the ballroom doors.

"Mike, wait!" Jessica exclaimed, running after him. Bella and Edward watched as she tackled him near the exit. They couldn't hear her pleas over the raucous music, but Mike's angry shouts and Jessica's wild gesticulations were easy to read. Their argument played out in almost comical pantomime as Jess grabbed at Mike while he warded her off and barreled out the door. She raced after him as fast as her high-heeled feet could carry her. Then the door swung closed behind them, leaving only their gaping and giggling peers behind.

Bella let out a heavy sigh. "Poor Mike. It was bad enough what she did to me, but he didn't deserve any of this."

Edward's hand tightened on her waist. "Well, he did keep pursuing you even though you told him you weren't interested. He was bound to get a wake-up call at some point."

"I guess you're right," she agreed. "I shouldn't have come here tonight-shouldn't have led him on like that."

Edward wanted to argue with her, but he found he rather agreed. "You're too nice for your own good," he said quietly as he steered her toward the exit.

"Maybe," she replied with a dubious shrug as they walked. "I don't feel so nice right now."

"Well, you are. A lot of girls would have popped Jessica right in the mouth for what she did."

Bella's laugh was rueful. "I suppose she had it coming to her. But no, leave it to me to just faint like some wilting lily instead."

"Well, Mike's public rejection was nice little gut-punch to Jessica all on its own. Besides, it's what you did afterward that matters," he insisted. He guided her to the ballroom door, past the disdainful looks and snickers of the students around them. Bella's arm tightened around his waist and she lowered her head, ducking their stares. "You gathered your courage and came back in here to face everyone. You stood up to Jess in the end." Edward smiled down at her as he opened the door. "You were brave."

"Was I?" She stopped and looked up at the guy who'd been supporting her and encouraging her to stand up for herself. Was this how she wanted to reward him? By merely enduring a public dance with him, then slinking out of the room with her proverbial tail between her legs?

Bella squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. She turned to face the nameless people whose opinions she'd pointlessly regarded. The comforting noise of the band came to a pause between songs, and she almost lost her nerve. But when she finally steeled herself and opened her mouth to speak, she surprised even herself with the strength of her conviction.

"Just for the record, Jessica was right. I did hire this guy to give me a night I'd never forget." She glanced up at Edward's stunned expression before she turned to face the gaping throng again. "And you know what? It was the best decision I ever made. Because every night I've spent with him since then has been just as unforgettable as the first one. And not for the sleazy reasons you probably all think, or because I paid him. He's given me the best of himself freely, because he wanted to. We're together because we want to be. So chew on that for awhile, all you gossip-mongers. He may have come here with Jessica, but he's leaving with me. He'll always end up with me."

With that, she grabbed a pleasantly shocked Edward by the hand and whirled toward the door, turning her back on the stares and whispers for good.

.

.

.

"This view is incredible."

Bella shook her head in amazement at the sight before her. The rectangular rooftop swimming pool of the Four Seasons glistened with the serene reflection of the moon above. But more stunning than that was the optical illusion created by the pool's infinity edge, making appear that it emptied directly into the distant waters of Elliot Bay.

"It's great, isn't it? I wanted you to see it before we left the hotel."

Edward smiled down at her, then followed as she strolled toward the bay. He suggested they have a seat on the built-in bench around the pool's perimeter, and she agreed. He situated himself so that he could still talk to her, but not block her view of the scenic backdrop behind him.

"I can't believe you did that," he said at last. He hadn't uttered a word about her mouth-dropping speech since she'd made it. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that those amazing words had come out of her mouth. That she had boldly defended him, when so much of his past was indefensible.

"I know," Bella agreed, still looking a little stunned herself. "I finally stopped giving a shit what everyone else thought, thanks to you. I just wish I'd done it sooner. You deserve better than my embarrassment."

"Do I?" It was Edward's turn to shake his head. "I've put you in an impossible position the past few weeks. Somehow I thought that sex was the deal breaker. That it was okay to keep escorting as long as I didn't get intimate with any of my clients. But when I saw your face after Jessica kissed me. . ." He grimaced at the memory. "Even though I was repulsed by it, that kiss was still a betrayal. I still hurt you. Not intentionally, but thoughtlessly. Carelessly. I should have known better."

He paused and let out a wry chuckle. "I don't know why I was so blind. I'm the one who told you it was never just about sex between you and me. So why would I think it was just about sex between me and any other girl?"

Bella said nothing, but her heart thudded erratically in her chest. He was finally getting it. Putting words to her nameless fears and frustrations. But could he put the words into action?

She soon got her answer. Edward looked down and took Bella's hands in his, then studied them, rubbing his thumbs over the tops of her fingers as he spoke.

"Of all the things I've done, I don't think I've ever been so disgusted with myself as I was tonight, when I realized that you'd seen me with Jessica. And then that song we danced to. . . The lyrics hit me so hard. 'Spend your time on me,'" he sang softly. "That's where I went wrong. Giving you part of me instead of giving you a hundred percent. I practically drove you into Mike's arms. Never again."

He looked up, his eyes reflecting the infinity pool and its fathomless night sky as he fixed his gaze on hers.

"I'm done, Bella." His words were nearly a whisper, yet more emphatic than anything he'd ever said.

"Done. . . ?" she echoed, desperate for the clarification she needed. Edward's grip tightened around her hands, and she suddenly realized how hard she'd been squeezing his fingers as her heart accelerated.

"Tonight was the last paid date I'll ever have. The last night I'll spend on the arm of another girl. I'm all yours. For as long as you want me," he added with a cautiously hopeful laugh.

There they were again-twin tears, running down her cheeks. But this time she didn't curse the waterworks. She embraced them, and then Edward, throwing her arms around him.

"I'll always want you," she promised. And even though she was only twenty years old, she somehow knew that time would not change the certainty filling every cell of her being right now. She sank her fingers into the thick hair at the nape of his neck and planted tiny kisses along his cheek. "Always," she whispered into his ear.

Edward fought back his own tears then. How had he gotten so damned lucky? By all rights she should have told him to go to hell. Given him his walking papers in front of that room full of gawking kids downstairs, and gone on with her life. But no, she wanted him in it. She'd faced her biggest fears to keep him there. Now it was time for him to return the favor.

He held her close, marveling once more at out how this tiny creature could have such a big impact on his life. His fingers stroked the soft curls of her hair, then reached for the smooth skin of her cheek, wiping one happy tear away.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, but you're stuck with me now," he said, his joking words a thin disguise for the emotion lurking beneath them. But his eyes gave away what his words could not.

"You're the one who's stuck," she argued, grinning back at him through her tears. "No more smorgasbord of women. Are you sure you're ready for the same entrée every night?"

He laughed in earnest then. "You're like pizza to me, Bella," he said, chuckling even more at her look of dismay. "That's a compliment. I always love pizza. I never get tired of the taste. Never."

The grin was still on his lips as he lowered them to hers. But as they came nearer, Bella flinched involuntarily, drawing back.

"I'm sorry," she instantly apologized.

"What is it?" He was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Nothing; it's stupid. I just had this flash in my mind of Jess. . . the way she shoved her tongue down your throat." She shuddered slightly.

Edward frowned. "If I had a toothbrush and toothpaste on me, I'd use this pool water right here and now to brush all traces of her away."

His eyes suddenly widened at another thought. "Wait here," he instructed, then leapt up and headed for the poolside bar. Though serving hours had just ended, he bribed the bartender with a hefty tip in order to procure a couple of shots.

"The swan song of my extravagant spending," he muttered to himself while he carried the drinks back to Bella, waiting poolside. "Worth every penny."

"What was that?" she asked as he handed her a shot glass.

"Nothing. Just trying to come up with a toast." He sat next to her, raising his own shot glass to hers.

"How about, 'to us?'" Bella suggested.

Edward smiled at the simplicity of it. "To us. And our future," he couldn't help adding.

Her smile matched his. "Cheers." She glanced down at the amber liquid before lifting it to her lips. "Um, what is this?"

"A very nice Irish whiskey," he replied. "It should kill any remaining cooties from Jessica Stanley's attack earlier."

Bella giggled at that. "Never in a million years did I think I'd hear the word 'cooties' come out of your mouth."

"Hey, my mouth will say or do anything to get your mouth back in its good graces."

"Ah. That's nice. I like that," she said with a grin. They clinked glasses together again before each taking the shot in one large gulp. Edward took his time before swallowing, swishing the alcohol around his mouth and gargling loudly with it for effect.

Bella laughed and rolled her eyes. "All right, that's enough. You're disinfected."

Edward downed the shot and grinned; then his smiled waned. "Am I forgiven?"

Her eyes flashed with mild exasperation. "I told you, there's nothing to forgive. Let's just move on now."

He sighed in relief. "To the future," he repeated.

When he kissed her this time, she didn't flinch. She raised trusting eyes and lips to his. And for the first time ever, he felt like he might almost deserve them.

* * *

><p><strong>"Syrup and Honey" written and performed by Aimee Duffy, copyright EMI Music Publishing, Inc. (Though I certainly like the Duffy version, I prefer American Idol winner Candice Glover's karaoke version recorded in her living room. You can youtube it!)<strong>


	47. Chapter 47

**Thanks for hanging in there with me, everyone. The creative muse decided to take quite a bit of vacation time this summer. I do intend to finish this story, hopefully sooner than later. I truly do appreciate all the kind reviews, even though my review-replying muse is every bit as lazy as the fic-writing one. Please accept my apologies, and my gratitude.**

**When we last left Edward and Bella, they were on the rooftop pool of the Four Seasons Hotel, toasting Edward's decision to leave Renaissance Escorts. The opening quote below popped into my head at one point while I was writing this chapter, so I decided to include it.**

* * *

><p><em>.<em>

_._

_It is the true season of Love_

_When we know that we alone can love,_

_That no one could ever have loved before us_

_And that no one will ever Love_

_In the same way after us._

~Johann Wolfgang Von Goethe

.

.

Bella couldn't stop staring at Edward's moonlit profile as the Volvo meandered through the winding streets of Magnolia toward his house. She'd never seen him look so serene, so untroubled. He had the weightless expression of a man who'd just had a 50-pound yoke removed from his back.

But she knew that if she were in his shoes, she'd be anything but relieved.

Edward had felt her probing eyes on him for some time, but it only made the tiny grin on his face stretch wider. No amount of uncertainty about the future was going to get him down tonight. Tonight was a celebration. He and Bella had both shed the burdens that had dragged them down for too long. The time for lip service to freedom had ended. They were actually free.

He glanced at her, twinkling eyes meeting sober ones. "I know you're afraid to believe it, but I really am done with Renaissance," he assured her. "I thought you'd be a little happier about my decision."

"I'm ecstatic about your decision. To the point where I think I might be in shock, actually," she replied. The laugh he emitted couldn't help but bring a smile to her face. "I don't think I've ever seen you like this. You're practically . . . giddy."

He laughed again. "Yeah. I guess I am. I wish you'd join me," he added in mild reproach.

"I'm just a little worried about tomorrow, that's all," she explained while Edward steered the car into the cul-de-sac where the stately Cullen home beckoned. "What happens when you wake up and realize you have no income? I mean, the problems that drove you to escorting haven't magically disappeared. How are you going to keep this gorgeous house, for one? I know how much it means to you."

They both gazed up at the sprawling Tudor before them as Edward turned down the drive. To Bella's surprise, his smile faded only slightly.

"I'm not in danger of losing the house. Not anytime soon."

Her eyebrows knitted. "I thought Emily had it mortgaged up to the rafters."

"She did." He hoped the flush spreading across his cheeks was undetectable in the dimly lit car. "Charlotte helped me out with that. She, uh, took care of the last mortgage. So instead of owing the bank, I owe her. And her terms are a little more generous than theirs."

"Wow." Bella wasn't sure how she felt about that. Charlotte Rinehart had been nothing but warm and charming on the occasions Bella had encountered her. But she couldn't help but find such generosity suspect. The woman might claim there were no strings attached, but in truth, she had made sure Edward would be indebted to her for years.

He glanced at Bella's troubled face and sighed. "You aren't still worried about her, are you? She's a friend. She'll still be my friend even though she's not a client anymore."

Bella nodded. She suspected that his grandmother's slow deterioration made Charlotte the only remaining mother figure in his life. She still wasn't sure Charlotte saw it the same way, but if she hadn't made any inappropriate advances toward Edward after all this time, chances are she never would.

"That's a pretty amazing gesture, making sure you can keep this house," she admitted. "She must care about you a lot."

"Yeah," he agreed quietly as he pulled the car into the garage. After killing the motor, he hopped out and made it to Bella's side of the car in time to help her out. He held on to her hand and guided her along the path to the house.

"There's something else Charlotte did for me that you should know about," he continued. His eyes darted to Bella's, dark and unreadable under the shade of a nearby maple. He felt her hand grasp his a little more tightly, and a shot of adrenaline danced along his veins.

"What is it?" Her voice was pulled tight with apprehension.

"Her late husband knew some important people in classical music circles. So she pulled a few strings and managed to finagle a spot for me in the Seattle Piano Competition this year, even though I missed the audition deadline months ago."

Bella stopped short, her eyes widening. Even in the dark, it was easy to see her excitement.

"You're going to be in a piano competition? That's the big secret you've been keeping from me?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I'm a little freaked out about it, I guess." He dropped her hand and ran it through his hair in the usual nervous habit.

"Why? You know I'll support you no matter how you do. And you're going to do great, by the way."

"We'll see." He wished he was as sure about the outcome as she was. "I still don't feel like I'm ready. I'm just not in the zone—not like I was when I was in school. I still feel kind of . . . off my game, I guess." He trailed off, not knowing how to explain his anxiety.

Bella reached for him again, closing her hand protectively around his wrist. "What are you so afraid of? What's the worst that could happen?"

"The worst that could happen?" he echoed with a sardonic laugh. "I'll choke. Get up in front of all those people and make a fool of myself. This is the first time a lot of music bigwigs will see me since I competed four years ago. I showed a lot of promise back then. But then I walked away and lost my momentum, my drive, my skills. I can't get back two years of lost time in a few weeks. What if I've blown it? For good?"

His eyes dropped to the paving stones beneath their feet. This was the first time he'd voiced his biggest fears out loud. The admission was both freeing and damning. He felt Bella's hand slide down, her fingers working their way between his. She had shifted on the sidewalk, and when he lifted his gaze to hers, her face was illuminated now by the moon shining through a break in the leaves overhead. Her dark eyes shone with a determination so fierce, he was almost ready to believe she had enough of it for both of them.

"That's ridiculous. You haven't lost your drive, or your skills. I see them both whenever you sit down at a piano. And momentum comes back—every day you practice, it builds. But in the end, none of that stuff is what's really important. What's important is what you have in here." She slid her free hand under his jacket, over his thumping heart. "When you let this guide your fingers, you can't go wrong. I've heard it. I've felt it. It's what made me fall in love with you, an hour after we met. Just set it free and you've already won."

Edward felt his throat constrict. He looked down at her palm warming the starched fabric of his shirt; at his mother's bracelet on her wrist, glowing faintly in the dark. He had the strange sensation that his mother's spirit hovered nearby, watching and smiling in approval. Maybe she had somehow steered him in Bella's direction, the same way she'd guided him to the four-leaf clover when he was a child.

"What would I do without you?" he whispered, to either the ghost, or the girl before him. Maybe both.

Before Bella could reply, he covered her mouth with his in a grateful kiss. The kiss quickly multiplied into more urgent ones, prompting Edward to suggest that they go in the house.

She readily complied, letting him lead her by the hand to the side door. But as soon as they were inside, an unhappy realization struck her. She stopped on the landing and frowned up at him.

"How long were you planning to keep this competition from me, anyway?"

Edward cringed, his words coming out slow and hesitant. "I don't know. Until I got a job offer out of it?"

"So you were going to let me miss it entirely? You weren't even going to let me be there to support you? To be there for your moment of triumph?"

"But what if it isn't a moment of triumph? What if I bomb completely and ruin everything?"

Bella's voice raised in exasperation. "If that happens—which it won't—then I want to be there to help you through it. That's what couples do. I mean, if that's what we are now. If we're seeing each other exclusively."

Edward gaped in disbelief at the uncertainty in her voice. "Of course we are. Didn't we just establish that back at the hotel? I love you. I don't want anyone else. I thought you felt the same."

"I do. So how could you leave me out of something this huge for you? I don't care whether you win or lose—I care about supporting you, no matter what. Don't you get that?"

He sighed at Bella's growing fury. "I do get it. I'm sorry. It's just that I'll be under enough pressure as it is without worrying about disappointing you."

"You can't disappoint me," she insisted. "No, wait, I take that back. If you had gone to that competition and never told me about it until afterward, _that_ would have disappointed me. Pissed me off royally, to be exact. I can't believe you were going to do that to me—leave me out of one of the most important moments of your life."

Edward stared in consternation at her incredulous face. Her eyes looked positively wounded. It was slowly sinking in just how badly he had almost fucked up, yet again.

"I'm sorry," he reiterated. "I'm not used to . . . letting people in." He stopped and raked uneasy fingers through his hair once more. "I didn't even tell Alice about it until last week. She warned me you'd react this way, and that I should tell you the truth. Fucking Alice, always right," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, she was this time," Bella agreed, then relented. "Look, I know you've been trying to protect me from a lot of things, and keep parts of your life separate from us. But that needs to stop now. You don't have to protect me anymore. Least of all from you."

"Bella, I'll always try to protect you. That's never going to change. But you're wrong about this one. It was myself I was protecting by not telling you," he admitted, his expression sheepish. "I couldn't stand the thought of you seeing me fail. I can't stand the thought of failing you."

Bella sighed and reached up to stroke her thumb along his jaw. "Don't you get it? It doesn't matter. I'm not going anywhere. Even if you're not perfect. Especially because you're not perfect."

That brought the smile back to his face, then hers. He slid his arms around her and pulled her close.

"I could tell you a hundred times how much I love you and it still wouldn't be enough," he murmured, his face dropping closer to hers. "But maybe if I take you upstairs, I can show you instead."

The same thrill of anticipation rippled over Bella's skin as it did that first night, wearing this dress, feeling the expensive cloth of this very suit under her fingers. She knew it was the same one. She recognized the fabric's rich navy hue, nearly black in the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows. She and Edward wore the same costumes as before, but beneath, they had both changed in profound ways. They had changed each other.

She made no audible reply; she simply nodded and let him lead her up the short flight of stairs and across the tiled kitchen floor. The low drone of a TV met their ears as they neared the dining room, and Edward emitted a sigh of disappointment that he and Bella weren't alone.

"Alice is home," he said. "I'd better check in and let her know we're here."

Bella followed him through the living room to the family room, then nearly ran smack into his backside after he came to an abrupt halt across from the couch. When she saw what had stopped him in his tracks, her eyes popped open and her mouth followed suit.

"Alice!" she heard him bellow. But she'd already averted her eyes from the sight of Edward's buck-naked cousin on the sofa, frantically scrambling for her clothes from beneath an equally naked, and horrified, Jasper Whitlock.

"Edward!" Bella heard her squeak, in between the rustling of garments being hastily pulled on. "What are you doing home so early? And with Bella? Hi, Bella!"

Bella's eyes stayed on the carpet, but her hand shot up in a little wave. "Hey, Alice."

"It's a long story," Edward answered. "And don't change the subject. What the hell do you two think you're doing in the middle of the family room, on Em's couch?"

"What does it look like we're doing, genius?" Alice retorted. "You can look, now, by the way. We're decent."

"That's debatable," Edward muttered. Bella looked up at him before she hazarded a glance back at the couple on the couch. He was glowering in distaste at red-faced Alice and Jasper, still straightening and fastening the clothes they'd hastily thrown on.

"Like you're one to judge," Alice retorted, glaring back at her cousin. "You can't possibly be trying to play the morality card with me."

Bella saw Edward's clenched jaw twitch a couple of times, but before he could offer a comeback, a still-shirtless Jasper spoke up.

"Look, I know this is not cool, fooling around on your grandmothers' sofa," he said in his soothing Southern drawl. His hands were raised in a gesture of surrender, as though Edward had a gun pointed at him. But Jasper's attempts to calm him down were somewhat thwarted by the frenetic locks of hair springing up all over his head in post-sex disarray. "Don't blame Alice for the impropriety, though. Blame me. I'm so in love with the girl that I sometimes lose my head, and my judgment goes right out the window. It won't happen again."

Bella couldn't help but grin at the sight of Alice, staring at Jasper in starry-eyed surprise. "You love me? Really?" she whispered.

"You know I do. And your cousin should know that. My intentions are completely honorable."

"Your intentions?" Alice repeated with a giggle. "I love how old-fashioned you are," she said with a happy sigh. "I love you."

She and Jasper leaned in toward one another, nose to nose and grinning dopily, seemingly encased in their own bubble of mutual attraction. Bella wondered if that's how she and Edward looked to the outside world. She heard him let out something between a sigh and a grumble, then looked up to see the resignation on his face.

"Fine. That's great. Just . . ." He paused, his lip twitching in a grimace. "Take it upstairs next time, will you?"

"Agreed," Alice said, still slightly shame-faced. "You could have knocked, though," she muttered as an afterthought.

"You want me to knock on the door of my own house?" he retorted, his voice rising again. Bella interceded with a loud cough before his ire returned.

"Edward has some incredible news to tell you, actually. Right?" She raised her eyebrows expectantly at him. He relented and gave her the slow smile she hoped she'd see, then turned to Alice.

"I quit the business tonight," he told her. "For good."

His cousin's face registered shock for a moment. "You quit escorting?"

He nodded, trying to stifle his grin but failing. "I'm done. I don't know what's going to happen next, but I'm not going back."

He stopped then, bracing himself as Alice hurled herself off the couch and made a running leap in his direction. She threw her arms around him with a squeal of elation; he picked her right up off the floor and rocked her back and forth for a moment.

"OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod," Alice chanted, tears filling her eyes. "I've been waiting so long for this moment. I'm so happy for you. And for you, Bella! For all of us." Edward set her back down on the carpet as she demanded, "What happened? What made you finally do it?"

Edward glanced over at Bella. "I got a wake-up call tonight. I finally saw just how much I was still hurting Bella. And you, Alice. I'm sorry for how my choices have impacted you, too."

She shook her head. "Don't be sorry. You did what you thought you had to do. I owe you so much for the sacrifices you made. But I'm glad it's over. Now you can concentrate on your music, the way you deserve. We'll make it work, Edward. We'll figure it out somehow."

She threw her arms around him in one last hug, and he was almost ashamed at her obvious relief. He'd never fully realized what his lifestyle had been doing to her all this time. How could he have been so blind?

Jasper rose from the sofa and slowly made his way to the group, resting his hand lightly on Alice's shoulder. She released her cousin and nestled back against him, placing her hand over his. Edward was struck by how right the two of them looked together. He wondered if that's how he and Bella appeared to the casual observer.

He smiled at Bella and reached out to take her hand in his, then turned his attention back to Jasper and Alice.

"Well, if you don't mind, Bella and I have a little celebrating to do. We'll let you two go back to . . . watching TV," he said with the quirk of one brow.

Alice and Jasper answered with matching grins, then retreated to the couch while Edward led Bella up the oak staircase to the bedrooms above.

.

.

.

Bella gazed at her reflection in the massive mirror perched over Edward's dresser. Her eye make-up was a little worse for wear after the crying she'd done earlier. But the expression in her eyes was what intrigued her. She looked older somehow. Wiser, perhaps. Like she was finally becoming the person she'd always wanted to be.

Like she was growing up.

Edward appeared in the mirror over her left shoulder. She watched him take off his suit jacket and throw it at the foot of the bed before he came to stand behind her. His reflection looked a little odd, his nose off-kilter in the reverse image before her. She stared at him, trying to get used to the difference.

"I hope it's okay that I changed the subject and made you tell Alice your news instead of yelling at her. She's not that much younger than I am, you know. And it's obvious she and Jasper are crazy about each other."

"I know. I'm actually cool with Jasper. She could do a lot worse. But I really didn't need to see my baby cousin _in flagrante _like that." He shuddered slightly again. "It just surprised me, that's all. Besides, I'd be the worst kind of hypocrite if I judged her at all, after the example I set for her."

"True," Bella told him with a wry grin. "But that's over now. Time to move on."

Edward nodded soberly. He reached out for a lock of her hair, pulling it over her shoulder and smoothing it down her back. A prickle of goose bumps rose on her neck at the brush of his fingers.

"Alice was so excited, even for her. I've never seen her like that," she continued.

But Edward's attention remained fixed on Bella's shoulder. He slowly pulled the crochet sweater down until her upper arm was bare.

"What about you? Are you excited?" he murmured. He gave her a meaningful look in the mirror before he bowed his head and pressed his lips to the base of her neck, over her collarbone.

"Very." Her voice shook slightly, her whispered reply hovering in the quiet air. His breath was warm on her skin as he moved his mouth along the curve of her shoulder. She watched his hand reach for the opposite shoulder and pull the delicate yarn work down, continuing until the sweater had fallen from her arms into his waiting hands. He tossed it near his jacket on the bed before replacing it with his hands, skimming them over her arms until goose flesh rose over her entire body.

"I like this dress," he said, moving his fingers down the blue satin covering her back, then sliding his hands around her hips and pulling her closer. "I hate that you wore it for someone else." He gave her a reproachful look in the mirror before his lips relaxed in a smirk. "Then again, that will only make me enjoy taking it off of you even more."

He raised one hand to pull the shoulder strap down, plying her pale skin with kisses once more. His other hand found the closure of her zipper, slowly pulling it down while the satin fell away from her back. He pushed the other strap of the dress down until the garment glided over her hips and dropped to the floor with a soft hiss.

Bella's breathing was labored now, her breasts noticeably rising and falling beneath the indigo lace of her bra. Edward flashed back to that first night, remembering the tension and excitement coursing through both of them at the prospect of their first time together. His desire was immeasurably stronger now—now that he knew the heart, soul and mind of the girl encased in this temple of ivory flesh.

He looked at her backwards image in the mirror, enjoying this new perspective. He wondered if she saw herself the same way now as she had that night.

"Do you finally see how beautiful you are?" he asked her reflection. "Why you have no need to be self-conscious? I had to fight your embarrassment at every turn. But you've let go of that now."

Her reflection nodded back at his. "You freed me that first night. And tonight you finally freed yourself."

He started, letting that sink in. "I had some help," he said at last, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. "I'm not sure I would have done it if you weren't waiting for me."

"We were waiting for each other," she said, sliding her own arms over his and clutching his hands beneath hers. They gazed at one another in the mirror a moment. Edward's eyes remained fixed on hers as he planted several kisses atop her head. He rocked her back and forth gently and breathed in the spicy floral scent of her shampoo. His eyes closed, allowing his other senses to heighten, immersing himself in her musk and silk and heat.

Bella's eyes closed too, but only for a moment. The enraptured look on his face was too wondrous to miss. She was still surprised that she could move him this way, even when the proof lay in the looking glass before her. But why shouldn't she affect him the way he did her? Didn't she deserve for her love and longing to be reciprocated? Everyone deserved that. She was just one of the lucky few who'd found it. She thought of Mike, and even mean-spirited Jessica. They'd merely been searching for what she'd managed to find, even if they went about it the wrong way. Wrapped in Edward's embrace, she saw and felt the proof of what love could do, and she felt nothing but forgiveness in her heart. There was no room for pettiness or blame, regret or shame. The past was gone. The future shimmered before her from a piece of leaded glass, and the image was better than anything she'd ever dared hope for.

She sighed and leaned her head against Edward's chest. She stroked the backs of his hands, then began working at the buttons of his shirt cuffs. She needed to feel the warmth of his skin, the coarseness of his hair beneath her fingertips.

He did not protest when she pulled away, sensing she was merely turning to face him. A faintly bemused smile played at his lips as he watched her reach for the knot of his tie. The action was reminiscent of their first night, but Bella's expression was not. Gone were her anxious eyes, her fumbling fingers. She untied the silken noose from his neck with sensuous languor, then slowly unbuttoned his shirt with steady, deliberate hands. She seemed to be savoring the opening of this package every bit as much as she had the ones he'd given her on her birthday. The effect was just as frustrating, yet enticing.

"Different tie," she noted as it slithered to the floor. She pulled the tails of his shirt from his pants and made quick work of the bottom button. "Different shirt," she added, running her hands up the tensed muscles of his belly and chest until she reached his shoulders. She pushed the starched cotton over them and down his arms in much the same manner as he had undressed her. He watched, mesmerized, as her sure fingers unhooked and unzipped the closure of his fine Italian gabardine pants.

"Same suit," she accused, her eyes darting up to his. "I hate that you wore this suit for someone else. Don't do it again."

With one quick yank, Bella sent the navy trousers straight to his ankles. His eyebrows raised, as did Junior, moving more freely in the boxers Edward had chosen to wear this evening.

"I won't," he promised. The knowledge that this was a vow he would keep sent a peculiar thrill through him. Where newfound commitment might send other men his age into a panic, it only strengthened Edward's conviction. As long as he had the love of this girl, he would need no other.

The seriousness in his eyes sent the same thrill of certainty through Bella. The night of her birthday, she wondered if she could ever fulfill the need in his hungry gaze. Now, she had no doubt of it. The search was over. They had each found what they needed in the other.

Their kiss began in slow motion: bodies gently bending and stretching, necks craning in swan-like grace until lips met. Then, soft probing; gentle tasting; sighs of mutual bliss. Their mouths shared a communion both reverent and unholy; sacrosanct and base. For lust soon joined love in their kiss, the two emotions fusing into a force more powerful than either could muster on its own.

Bodies pressed together; hands grasped at flesh; lips pressed harder; tongues searched more deeply. When Edward and Bella broke apart at last for breath, their eyes met for one long, fevered moment. Trust merged at last with love and lust. The trinity was complete.

The fervor of this new religion overtook them; they reveled in its perfect union. They reached for one another with renewed awe, the sensation of each touch intensified by their mutual worship. When Edward bent to rid himself of his shoes and socks, Bella knelt to untie him. As soon as she finished with the task, she ran her hands slowly up the pillars of his legs, through the strands of sandy hair on his legs until she reached the smooth skin of his upper thighs. She didn't stop there. She reached further, under the thin cotton, to the apex of his hips and thighs. His skin was so soft and smooth there; a stark white virgin untouched by the rays of the sun. She laced her fingers through the thicket of curly hair that lay between, circling her thumbs around the base of his thickening erection. She could see its increasing length rising to greet her beneath the fabric of his shorts. A small groan escaped him at the gentle pressure of her fingers, teasing him with their indirect contact.

She smiled at this power she had over him—the power to arouse and give pleasure, which would ultimately result in her own. She looked up into his eyes as she gathered the cotton material of his boxers in both hands and pulled down slowly, maddeningly, until his cock sprang free, pointing with insistence at the object of its desire. Bella ignored the bobbing head so close to her lips, methodically continuing to push Edward's underwear down his legs. When they reached the rug, he hastily removed his feet one by one and kicked the boxers aside. He was the one breathing hard now, his eyes glowing fierce with want down at Bella's serene Mona Lisa smile, hovering so close to impatient Junior.

He placed both hands on the sides of her head, gently drawing her closer until the tip of his cock brushed against those ruby lips. _Please, _he wanted to groan, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment at the feel of that kiss. The groan became real when she parted those lips and let him in; her tongue gliding beneath him, tickling and wetting him before retreating; then twirling and licking before she wrapped her lips around him once more and sucked him down deep before retreating again.

He sighed and appealed to a higher power, his first of many exhortations to God that night. He would make sure Bella cried out to the heavens herself before the night was through. His fingers combed the silky hair at her temples while she worked him into a lather as only she could. He watched, hypnotized, as his cock slid between those pretty lips over and over again, his hips gently thrusting in a quickening rhythm dictated by her stroking hands and mouth. The matching image in the mirror next to him only doubled his desire. He watched until he could watch no longer; until he knew must stop her or explode inside that beautiful orifice. It was much too soon for that.

He withdrew with effort, holding her head steady as he pulled out. "Stand up," he ordered, his voice a rasp of desire. The minute she rose to her feet, he kissed her, replacing his cock with his tongue, reminding her that there were no barriers between them; nothing holding him back. Asking her to hold nothing back from him.

He turned her toward the mirror, toward the image of her gorgeous body in that silky black bra and panties. She must see herself the way he did. Must understand why he loved and desired her so.

"Look at yourself," he whispered, placing his hands on her shoulders. "What do you see?"

Bella stared blankly for a moment. She had a hard time dragging her eyes from the drop-dead handsome image of Edward in all his naked glory, but she finally forced herself to study her own reflection instead. She saw cherry lips, wet and swollen from pleasing the man she loved. She saw dark eyes, hungry for more of him. She saw the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, flushed and panting in anticipation. And then she watched his hands wrap around her hips, rise to cradle her waist, then skim her ribcage before closing over her breasts, squeezing and gently pinching her nipples until they hardened beneath their lace cover.

She gasped at the sensation, her breath catching in her throat. His hands released her in order to unhook her bra and push the straps over her shoulders; she watched it parachute to the floor. He cupped her breasts again, pushing her rigid nipples skyward. Her back arched involuntarily, effectively pressing her cleavage further into his hands and her ass against his erection. She moaned at the realization that he was now the one with all the power.

"Do you see how incredible you are?" Edward whispered in her ear, his hands beginning to roam slowly down her body, thoroughly caressing every curve before moving to the next. "There is no one more beautiful to me. No one sexier." His fingers slid under the thin band of her lace underwear, stretching over her belly toward her throbbing sex. "You're perfect."

His fingers dipped down; her eyes closed and her head fell back. Yes, perfect. The feel of his flesh against hers, delving deep, tender yet insistent. His lips panted hot breath into her ear as his fingers probed until she was wet and compliant. Her hips tilted upward, letting him in.

"Perfect," she echoed. She spoke of a different perfection, but it didn't matter.

"Yes," he said. Now she saw. Or maybe she simply felt it. Felt what it meant to him every time she let go; every time she let him in. Let him touch her in her most private, intimate places. Let him try to return the pleasure she gave him.

He let out a grateful sigh before removing his fingers and kneeling down to peel her panties from her body, tossing them over his discarded boxers. She still wore her heels, and it suited him. He did not remove them. They made the muscles of her legs taut under his hands as they skimmed up her body and rested on her buttocks. He squeezed and stroked, slapped and shook that solid, round flesh. She yelped a little but her back arched once more, belying her arousal. The evidence was even more ample when he spread her cheeks to reveal the glistening flesh between. He let out a groan at the tantalizing aroma emanating from her, begging to be tasted. He moaned directly into those pink folds as he pressed his lips to hers, then lapped at her sticky sweetness with his tongue.

Her moans took over then. The intensity of the sensations shocked her every time, as if she had never been tasted before. But this time, the pleasure of his probing tongue was heightened by the visual aid of the mirror before her. Never before had she seen her own reaction to Edward's sexual onslaught: the helpless euphoria etched across her face, the heaving of her flushed chest, the wanton spreading of her legs; not to mention the glimpses of Edward's face pressed between them, tonguing her into a full-body swoon.

She gasped and grabbed at the heavy oak frame of the mirror as he continued to work her into a frenzy. Without thinking, she raised her left leg and rested her knee on the dresser, opening herself wider to him and allowing her to better see what he was doing. The thrill of the taboo raced through her as she watched him work his magic. She felt no shame at the sight of her pussy being thoroughly and deliciously ravished by that beautiful mouth of his. Instead, she felt only elation that he wanted her this much.

Bella's invitation only spurred Edward on. He was unbelievably turned on that she liked the show; wanted to see exactly what he was doing to her. He devoured her with an insatiable hunger, burying his face until he was coated in her cream, then manually stroking her until she pushed her opening toward his fingers, taking the first two deep inside.

He pumped her slowly at first, continuing to tongue the parted flesh encasing his fingers. Then he moved his mouth back, gently licking and probing her anus in time with the thrusting of his fingers. When she moaned softly and her hips began rocking in time, he continued, pushing his tongue against her tight opening and then finally massaging it with his other hand. He continued this way, wetting that delicate starfish and then pushing his pinky finger against it, trying to gain admittance.

Bella took a deep breath, then exhaled and tried to relax. She wanted to be ready to explore this type of intimacy with him. She suspected he liked anal sex, though he'd never brought up the topic. But he'd stimulated her orally there several times already; it was only a matter of time before he tried more.

She stilled her body and willed her muscles to go lax. Edward took her cue and pushed his finger slowly but surely into her opening. She winced and bit her lip, but didn't make a sound. At least not until he'd breached the tight ring of muscle and inserted his finger deeper within her. The sound she made then was not one of pain, but of surprise. Once he was inside, the sensation was oddly pleasant. She let out a sigh as he buried his smallest finger in her rectum, then twisted gently. Yes, that was good. Surprisingly great, actually.

"Do you like this?" came his tentative question. He was fairly certain he knew the answer. He was good at reading her body, and right now, she was on her way to reaching that sexual nirvana that he always hoped for.

"Yes. It feels good," she admitted quietly, trying to calm her breathing, but to no avail. The sensation of those gorgeous fingers filling her, front and back, was overwhelming. As he tenderly massaged her, she teetered on that excruciating brink between pain and ecstasy. But the more he massaged, the more she leaned toward the latter.

"It's not too much?" he asked her, increasingly unsure. Her body was tense and panting. When he looked up, he could see her breath fogging the mirror before her.

She let out something like a laugh, or a gasp. "It _is_ too much. Don't stop," she ordered.

He slowed his movements. "Are you sure?"

She nodded vigorously. "Keep going."

The intensity was nearly more than she could bear, but the thought of him stopping was worse. Instead, she gave herself over completely to the shockwaves barreling through her belly as Edward's fingers stroked her nerve endings into a meltdown. She openly whimpered and moaned; she slapped her hands right on the glass mirror to support herself as he increased the pace. The sight of what he was doing to her only intensified her reactions. He was right, it was too much. Something was going to have to give.

Edward was as consumed in Bella's sexual thrall as she was. It was nearly an out-of-body experience. Every bit of his concentration and consciousness was focused on the three digits encased within her, shaking her very core in the most intimate way possible. She was going to climax soon. Her body was tensing all around him, even as she pushed back on his fingers, welcoming the friction of his increasingly rapid thrusts. He was unbelievably high on the prospect of driving her to ultimate release.

The frantic sounds that came from her mouth surprised even Bella, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She was coming, and her vision was going black. She slammed her palms against the glass, squeezed her eyes shut and released a high-pitched cry as everything within her convulsed in paroxysms of ecstasy.

Edward stared with glassy-eyed wonder at the feel of her muscles gripping his fingers in waves, and the sight of her hips bucking along with them. She had come undone entirely at his hands once more. And he felt every bit as satisfied, yet strangely powerless, as the first time.

Frustration soon followed. He wanted in on her euphoria. He wanted to ride that roller coaster with her, not just be the guy at ground control. He glanced down at Junior, rigid and nearly purple with envy; then at Bella's still-quivering backside, coming down from the first wave of her orgasm.

He was on his feet in seconds, ignoring her disappointed gasp when he withdrew his fingers from her warmth. He met her frazzled gaze with his determined one, then ran his hands slowly over her damp skin, down the length of her thigh, still perched atop the dresser. With the help of the mirror, his searching fingers quickly found their way to her swollen clit, while Junior reached from behind for the slick opening at its base. The two converged together, stroking and filling her in a swift unison that had her crying, "Oh, God!"

But her cries weren't for mercy, and Edward wasn't about to give it to her. He was going to give her something else altogether.

They both grunted like animals, their breath fogging the mirror and blurring their faces as they rutted. Bella still throbbed and burned from her interrupted climax, barely having time to recover before the assault of Edward's cock began. She knew that was exactly what he wanted. The blood still pumped through her belly, squeezing her muscles rhythmically against this new invader. She practically sobbed as the pulsing intensified, heightened by the relentless stimulation of his fingers outside and his dick within. The mirror image of him disappearing deep inside her, over and over, added a whole new dimension to her arousal. Dear God, she was going to come again. Or still. She wasn't sure which. She only knew that the ache of pure pleasure refused to stop racking her groin, and nothing else mattered.

Edward pumped in time with her contractions, meeting each one with a deep thrust that forced one guttural growl from his throat after the other. She was coming again, and damned if she wasn't going to take him with her. He was close already. The minute she cried out and her walls constricted, he stilled his movements and let himself feel the reverberations, right along with her. They were quick and intense, gripping him repeatedly until he felt his own climax building. He began moving his hips again, driving his cock into her with long, deliberate thrusts until it erupted in bursts of excruciating pleasure.

"Yes," she gasped, her eyes closing and her head lolling back, as if his ecstasy was her own.

He groaned at the glorious release, then collapsed against her, his hand joining hers on the looking glass to support himself. Through the panting fog on the mirror, his spent and sated eyes met hers in wordless communion. Was there anything better than this? If there was, he had certainly never experienced it. Never in the most sexually satisfying moments of his escort days had he come close to feeling anything like this. This was what drew him to Bella, over and over, and would for the rest of his days. Not just the mind-blowing physical connection, but all the things about her that deepened it into so much more than he ever knew was possible.

He kissed her cheek and wrapped his arms around her, never taking his eyes from hers in the mirror. He watched her shift slightly in order to lower her leg from the dresser, wincing at the stiffness in her joints as she put her weight back on both feet. Edward reached down to massage the limb until her face relaxed into the same picture of contentment as his own. He buried his nose in her neck, inhaling her essence, drowning in the scent of utter bliss. He never wanted to resurface.

He grinned into the tangle of her dark hair as the realization hit him: This time, he didn't have to.

* * *

><p><strong>As often happens, that batch of lemonade was quite a bit bigger than I'd planned. Hopefully you were in the mood for something tangy. ;)<strong>


	48. Chapter 48

**Thanks for your patience, everyone. My entire being was on vacation this time, not just my muse. ;)**

* * *

><p>"Are those blueberry pancakes I smell?"<p>

Edward grinned at the sound of Alice's voice behind him. "You know it," he replied, reaching for the spatula in order to flip them.

"And you know I'm an addict when I can smell them over the bacon," she said with a laugh. "Here, let me help."

She scooted past him to the stove and grabbed the tongs from the nearby counter, then turned the bacon while Edward flipped the flapjacks. They worked in silence for a moment, enjoying their usual morning routine a little more now that they each had someone else to cook for.

"I see you made enough for everyone," Alice noted. "Is Bella awake yet?"

"No. She had a pretty rough evening before I brought her home. I thought I'd surprise her with breakfast in bed."

"You're such a romantic," she teased. "I like that idea. Maybe I'll do the same for Jasper."

Alice glanced up at Edward for his reaction, but his face remained serene.

"You weren't really mad about catching me and Jasper last night, were you?" she asked, just to be sure.

"No," he replied evenly. "Although I really didn't need to see the two of you going at it. I could use some brain bleach for that one. But I actually like Jasper. He seems like a good guy."

"He's a great guy. I know you'll like him the more you get to know him. He's really helped me cope with a lot of things, like Em getting worse. He's even offered to come with me to visit her. Not many guys would do that, you know?"

"I know." Edward paused, recalling their grandmother's desire to meet Bella, even if she wasn't lucid enough to remember it. "I've thought about taking Bella, too. Maybe we could call Tranquility Gardens ahead of time to find out how Em's doing, and then we could all go see her together. I think it would help for her to know we're not alone anymore."

He stopped, blinking back the tears welling in his eyes. Now was not the time for sorrow. Not today.

"That's a good idea," Alice agreed. She put down the tongs and gave Edward's arm a reassuring squeeze. "Have you thought about how we're going to keep her there? It's such a nice place, and the staff has been so good with her. I don't want to have to move her."

Edward nodded and set the spatula on the stove with a sigh. "Me neither. I'll look into some financial aid again this week. I have enough money to get us through the piano contest, anyway. But after that, I've got to find some work, regardless of how the competition goes."

He turned and gave his cousin a smile, hoping it looked more encouraging than grim. Of course, he couldn't fool her for a minute.

"It's going to be okay, Edward," she insisted with typical pluck. "I don't know exactly how, but it will. Things can only get better now that you're done selling yourself. God, I'm so happy about that, I can't even. . ."

She threw her arms around him in lieu of finishing the sentence. He couldn't help but let out a chuckle, once again grateful for her innate enthusiasm. "I'm pretty happy about it myself."

"I guess the only person who isn't is your boss," Alice said with a snort. She drew back and raised curious eyes to his. "So, what did Rosalie do when you broke the news to her?"

Edward's grin faded. "Well. . .that remains to be seen."

Alice's eyes bulged. "You haven't told her?"

He shook his head with a slight grimace.

"So you haven't actually quit yet. You haven't given your notice."

"Not officially," he admitted, reluctant to receive one of Alice's judgmental lectures. "But she knew it was only a matter of time. I was kind of on probation with the agency, anyway. Once my date from last night gives Rosalie the lowdown of what happened, I'm sure my ass will be grass. She'll probably fire me before I get the chance to quit."

"I don't know about that," Alice said, frowning. "You were one of her most popular guys. You think she wants to give up that kind of cash flow without a fight?"

"Under other circumstances, I'd say no. But Rosalie's actually not as bad as you think. She kind of gets where I'm coming from. She went through it herself, with Emmett."

"I suppose so," Alice said with a shrug. "Maybe he can soften her up for you. Is he coming over for Black Ops this afternoon?"

Edward nodded. "Yeah. But this is something I'll need to do in person, not through Emmett."

"Right, of course." Alice paused, her forehead crinkling. "So what happened on your date last night that was so bad? You said Bella had a rough night. Did she get involved somehow?"

"More like, I was the cause," came a female voice from behind them. Edward and Alice turned in unison to find a sleepy-eyed Bella in the kitchen doorway, with Jasper right on her heels.

"The cause? How do you mean?" asked Alice, while Edward shook his head in disagreement.

"Remember my friend Jessica, from the bar? You met her the night before my birthday," Bella reminded her as she headed toward one of the bar stools at the island counter. Jasper followed, pulling the stool out for her before seating himself beside her.

"She was a delight, as I recall," he commented, his drawl only accenting the sarcasm.

Bella let out a small laugh. "Right. Well, she outdid herself this time. I underestimated her jealousy over Mike. She figured out my connection to Edward, then hired him to take her to the same party she knew Mike was taking me to last night."

Jasper's mouth formed a surprised 'O' while Alice shrieked in outrage.

"Get out! She did not really do that." Edward and Bella's identical nods refuted her.

"I had no idea who she was," he clarified. "If I had, I never would have let Rose set up the date."

"What a scheming little ho-bag!" Alice fumed.

"I'm a little confused, though," Jasper interjected to Bella. "Why were you on a date with Mike?"

Her blush was one of guilt. "Because I'm an idiot. I underestimated his feelings for me, too. I thought we could go out as just friends. I was wrong."

"Stop blaming yourself," Edward reprimanded. "I was the one still in the position for her to use me to hurt you. It won't happen again."

He spoke with finality before turning and checking on the breakfast, now ready to be served. He motioned to Alice to get the dishes out of the cupboard while he placed the cooked bacon on paper towels to drain. Minutes later, the four friends were lined up at the bar, devouring pancakes in between conversing, just as they had the week before. Edward could sense the beginning of a new tradition, and the feeling warmed him down to his toes.

"Well, I still think Jessica is the main one to blame in all of this," Alice declared after hearing both Bella and Edward's sides of the debacle. "She's just a class-A beyotch, plain and simple. What she did was beyond cruel. I hope you bitch-slapped her like she deserved, Bella."

Bella laughed and spoke with a twinge of regret. "I think I was too traumatized. I'm more of a stick-my-head-in-the-sand type when it comes to confrontation. I just freeze. But you're right, I might have felt better if I'd hauled off and slugged her instead."

"But in the end, you stood up for yourself. And me," Edward reminded her. "You don't know how much that meant to me," he added quietly.

Bella's eyes met his, and she saw exactly how much it meant. "I do know. You were so quiet last night after I finally told everyone off. Whenever you're at a loss for words, that's when I know something has really touched you, down deep."

As if to prove it, he stared at her dumbly for a moment. "You know me well," he said at last, a grin spreading across his face.

Bella grinned back and reached for her orange juice.

"Well, if I ever see her again on campus, I'll bitch-slap her myself," Alice announced. "She's got it coming to her. Not only did she hurt you, she could have gotten Edward arrested, blowing his cover like that in front of everyone. Rosalie will have a cow if she finds out."

"Shit," Bella exclaimed, setting her glass down with a thud. "I never even thought of that. I admitted the truth about our relationship to the entire room."

Edward looked at her panic-stricken face and tried to reassure her. "Don't worry about it. There's no proof. And since I'm resigning, no one can come after Rosalie because of me. I'll no longer be her employee."

The truth was, he didn't know whether he should be worried about the possibility or not. He very much doubted that anyone at last night's Greek cocktail really cared about busting him or the agency. He just hoped Jessica wasn't vindictive enough to do it herself.

A silence fell over the kitchen, and he wondered if the others were thinking the same thing.

"Well, I think Edward's right," Jasper said at last. "I doubt anyone from that party will go to the trouble of finding his agency just to squeal on him. As my grandmamma used to say, 'Don't borrow trouble.'"

"Oh, that sounds like what Em always told us: don't worry until it's time to worry," Alice chimed in.

"Words to live by." Jasper raised his juice glass and proposed a toast. "Here's to the wisdom of the wonderful ladies in our lives."

"Hear, hear," was the unison response, along with the clinking of glass and gulping of orange juice.

"Ooh, we should have opened some champagne and made mimosas," Alice lamented. "To celebrate Edward finally getting his head out of his ass. And to thank Bella for giving him a reason to do it."

Edward's answering smile was more of a sneer. "That's a beautiful sentiment. But true," he admitted with a rueful laugh.

Bella barely had time to give him a reproachful look before a loud banging at the kitchen door diverted everyone's attention.

"Is Emmett here already?" Alice wondered aloud. "Seems kind of early, although I guess it is getting close to noon."

Edward hopped off his bar stool and down the short flight of steps to the side door. "Keep your pants on, McCarty," he joked as he unlocked the door and yanked it open. "I'd prefer that your ass be covered when I hand it to you this afternoon."

His gloating died in the cool coastal air floating through the doorway. For instead of being greeted by Emmett's grinning mug, Edward was met with Rosalie Hale's cool blue stare.

"I'd say it's a little late for that," she told him without missing a beat. "I think you already handed me my ass last night. Although, to be fair, you had some help."

Edward's face went ashen. "I take it you heard from Jessica this morning?" he managed to say, trying to swallow the lump that had formed in his throat.

"Oh, yes. She gave me an earful. She's a real treat," Rosalie said with a tight smile, her sarcasm more biting than Jasper's had been. "Mind if I come in?"

"No, of course not." Edward stepped back and motioned for her to lead the way up the stairs. He was about to close the door when he caught Emmett's hulking form striding up the sidewalk from the drive. He gave his friend a curious look, wondering why the two of them had come to the house together. Surely Rose didn't want to wait around while Emmett and Edward played their usual rounds of video games. Or was she so angry that she'd forbidden her boyfriend to hang out at the Cullen house?

Edward followed her and Emmett up the stairs, taking in the surprised stares of the girls at the bar. Jasper had no idea who the guests were, but Alice and Bella certainly did. Bella blanched, getting that look on her face that Edward thought he'd seen the last of. Her expression was one of intimidation. But why? Rosalie couldn't hold anything over them now.

Bella gaped openly at the vision of Edward's boss entering the room. Even on a Sunday morning, wearing jeans and a simple knit shirt, Rosalie Hale's striking beauty managed to outshine every glossy surface of the brand-new Cullen kitchen. Bella absently finger-combed the tangled strands of her own hair, wishing she'd at least dragged a brush through it, or put on some clothes besides a pair of Edward's old sweats before coming downstairs this morning.

"Good morning, everyone," Rosalie greeted them somewhat sheepishly, apparently sensing she'd interrupted their personal time. "Bella, it's nice to see you again," she continued with a nod. Bella nodded in return, her cheeks reddening.

Rosalie's attention shifted to the slip of a girl sitting next to her. Her large, hazel eyes were the same shape as Edward's green ones, and just as sharp. "You must be Alice. I've heard a lot about you. All good, of course. I'm Rosalie," she added, sticking out her hand in introduction.

Alice reluctantly gave her a brief handshake. "Good to finally meet you," she managed, though her tone was insincere.

Rosalie's grin broadened. The girl reminded her so much of Edward, but without the ability to sugar-coat her true feelings. She liked that in a person. She worked with glib charmers every day. Straight shooters like Emmett and Alice were a breath of fresh air. As was Jasper Whitlock, when he stretched his hand over the counter and introduced himself with a lilting Southern "Pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Hale."

An uncomfortable but brief silence fell after the introductions, interrupted by Emmett's booming voice as he perused the kitchen. "Pancakes and bacon? Did you leave me any leftovers?"

"No, but I can fix more," Alice piped up.

Rosalie gave Emmett a swat on one beefy bicep. "Don't listen to him. We just came from brunch at Vios. He needs more bacon like he needs another hole in his head."

"I can always make room for bacon. Not to mention homemade pancakes," Emmett argued.

"It doesn't mean you should," his paramour argued back. "I'd like to see you make it past fifty, you know."

"You can't get rid of me that easily," he shot back with an ornery grin, sliding his arm around her and giving her a squeeze. "You know I'm gonna live forever, just to irritate you."

"Is that a promise or a threat?"

Emmett gave her another squeeze. "A little of both."

Edward listened to their gentle bickering with interest. Though Rose was being a hard-ass as always, her expression was softer than he'd ever seen it before. Emmett had definitely thawed that ice princess with his unstoppable warmth. Her glacial eyes were reduced to mere puddles as she tried in vain to give him a glare. She pressed her lips together to stop a grin from forming, to no avail. It crept across her face like the dawn, infusing that cool landscape with a warm glow that was all new to Edward. Not to Emmett, though. The knowing smile and quick peck he gave her had the easiness of everyday gestures.

Rosalie seemed to turn away from him with reluctance as she faced Edward once more. "If you're done with your breakfast, I'd like to have a word with you."

Edward nodded. "Sure," he said, his voice a bit hollow as he gestured to the living room. "Let's go sit in the other room."

He drank in Bella's look of encouragement before following Rosalie out of the kitchen.

"This is a beautiful house, Edward," she commented, her appreciative eyes sweeping the room. "No wonder you've fought so hard to keep it."

"It's been in the family for years," he replied. "I just hope I can keep it that way."

Rosalie turned to face him, her expression peculiar. She fished around in her designer bag, finally procuring a long, white business envelope.

"Maybe this will help," she said as she handed it to him.

He took the envelope, uneasiness twisting his stomach despite her words. "What is this—my pink slip?"

"Just open it."

He did as instructed, unfolding the long legal paper with equal parts curiosity and apprehension. When he saw what the document contained, he raised stunned eyes to his boss.

"This is the title to the Volvo."

Rosalie nodded, another grin pulling at her lips. "Yes, it is."

"I don't understand." He understood, all right; he just didn't quite believe it.

"It's yours," she clarified. "So is the wardrobe. I don't have any use for the car, or a closet-full of designer suits. But you might. They should bring in enough money to tide you over in a pinch. Hopefully it won't come to that, but if it does, well, maybe this can provide a little cushion for you and your family."

The lump formed in Edward's throat once more, but for a very different reason this time. "This is . . ." He shook his head, searching for the right words. ". . . incredibly generous of you, Rosalie. Considering how things went down, you have every right to bounce me out on my ass and repossess everything I ever put on that expense account."

She arched one impeccably-groomed eyebrow. "You know I wouldn't do that to you. We had a good run, Edward. You did amazingly well, considering your heart was never really in it. I don't begrudge you anything. Consider it a bonus. A parting gift, if you will."

A ghost of grin swept over his face. "So I _am_ fired."

She let out a wry laugh. "You pretty much gave your notice a couple of weeks ago. I probably should have let you go then, but what can I say? I'm greedy. I hoped you'd change your mind. I'm already having a hard time trying to figure out what to do with your clients. They're insistent when it comes to you. They don't want any substitutes. But the truth is, I can't have another incident like last night on my hands. It was all I could do to calm Jessica Stanley down so she wouldn't report us to the authorities. When I pointed out to her that she'd be implicating herself as well, that finally did the trick."

Edward let out a long breath, then slumped into a nearby chair. "I'm sorry about that whole mess. If I'd had any idea that girl had a connection to Bella, I never would have let you book the date."

Rosalie seated herself at the end of the sofa, next to Edward's chair. "Well, if it wasn't her, then it would have been another client eventually. There's a reason I have a hard and fast rule about my escorts getting personally involved with customers. It just doesn't work, especially when our clients are women. They have a tendency to get more emotionally attached than men do. So when an escort reciprocates outside the parameters of a work, the situation goes south very fast."

"Mixing business and pleasure never works. Even in our profession."

"Especially in our profession," she corrected him with another wry smile. "Ironically enough."

Edward's weak grin faded. "I'm sorry I put you in that position. I fought my connection with Bella at first, you know. I didn't want the complication. But when that changed, I should have made a clean break with you and the agency instead of asking you for special treatment. And yet you still went out of your way to help me out in the end." He shook his head, baffled.

"I like you, Edward," Rosalie said simply. "Well, the little I know of you. But you're Emmett's friend, and he cares about you a lot. That's good enough for me."

Edward smiled, realizing he was beginning to like Rosalie as well. "Well, Emmett's obviously crazy about you. And that's good enough for me, too."

She grinned, nodding. "Well, maybe we can work on this friendship thing now that you're no longer under my employ."

"Sure. I'd like that," he answered with his own smile. "How are you at video war games?"

She let out a laugh. "Are you asking me to join you and Emmett for a little Call of Duty action?"

"If you're up to the challenge," he taunted.

"I'm always up for a challenge. You do realize Emmett makes me play Black Ops with him when you're not around, right? I'm a force to be reckoned with."

"I don't doubt that for a second."

The two appraised one another through this new lens of friendship. The view suited them both, and they grinned again.

"Let's go get the others and split into teams," Rosalie suggested, rising from the couch.

"Good idea," Edward agreed as he stood and folded the car title to fit back into the envelope. His expression sobered once more, and he grabbed Rosalie's arm to stop her from leaving the room. She turned and looked up at him in surprise.

"Thank you." His voice was gruff, strangled by that damned lump again.

Rosalie looked into his grateful eyes and quietly said, "You're welcome."

Edward wondered if he should hug her. He hesitated for a moment, noting that she looked as awkward as he felt. He finally busied himself putting the car title back in its envelope, then filed it in the drawer of the closest end table for safe-keeping.

Rosalie looked relieved when he turned and gestured to the kitchen where their friends waited. As they exited the living room, she glanced up at him and said, "If I hadn't let you go today, you would have quit anyway, wouldn't you?"

Her words sounded more like a statement of fact than a question. He gave her a sheepish look. "That was the plan."

"Well, then," she said, "I'm glad I beat you to the punch."

He snorted softly. That sounded like the Rosalie he knew.

"You do like having the upper hand," he noted.

"Always."

"I'm not so sure I want to play Call of Duty with you anymore," he teased as they entered the kitchen.

"Don't be a sissy-pants," she shot back. "Emmett, your friend here is afraid I'm going to annihilate him at Black Ops. What do you think of that?"

"Sissy-pants?" Edward echoed with another snort, while Emmett guiltily finished off the last piece of bacon.

"I think he's right to be worried," Emmett said before wiping his mouth and turning to Edward. "She's brutal, man. I've created a monster."

"All right, that's enough trash talk. Let's get this covert operation started," Rosalie announced. She looked at a clearly surprised Bella and Alice, who gaped at her from across their empty plates. "You two want to join me in a little video game challenge? Girls against the boys. What do you say?"

Alice recovered first, her round eyes crinkling as she grinned. "Well, I generally suck at video games, but if you don't mind a handicap, I'll give it a try."

"I'm afraid I'll be the handicap," Bella interjected. "I've never even played Black Ops before."

"It's not hard-I'll teach you," Edward offered.

Bella gave him a quick _what-the-hell-just-happened-in-there? _look. His eyes responded with a silent _I'll-tell-you-later._

"Hey, no fraternizing with the enemy," Rosalie teased. "He's right, though. It's not hard to learn. Maybe the boys will be kind enough to give us a practice run before we start."

The guys readily agreed, then watched still-shocked Bella and Alice accompany Rosalie to the family room. Edward shook his head at this rather strange turn of events, then began cleaning up the dirty plates from the bar. Jasper jumped in and helped him load the dishwasher while Emmett opened the refrigerator in search of beer.

"So, how did it go in there?" he asked, feigning nonchalance as he popped open a brew.

"Better than I ever expected," Edward answered. He glanced at Jasper and told him, "Rosalie actually gave me the title to the car I've been driving. The C70." He turned from Jasper's look of surprise to Emmett's poker face. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

Emmett shrugged. "She mentioned she might try to help ease the transition of you leaving the business. That ought to help you out, right?"

"Quite a bit," he replied. "Come on, drop the innocent act. You had something to do with this, didn't you? You put her up to it."

Emmett raised his hands in denial. "Giving you the car was her idea. I just offered my hearty approval."

"Right," Edward said, still skeptical. "How about the wardrobe? Was that her idea, too? Tens of thousands of dollars' worth of Italian suits and shoes. Even if I can only sell them for a fraction of their worth, it's still a very nice chunk of change."

"It certainly is," Emmett agreed with a noncommittal nod.

Edward approached, staring down his friend through narrowed eyes. "You are the world's fucking worst liar. You know that, right?"

Emmett's eyes narrowed as well, but the twinkle in them was irrepressible. "You wound me deeply," he said, stifling a grin.

Edward shook his head in exasperation before growing more serious. "Thanks, man. I mean it."

Before Emmett could make another rebuttal, Edward threw his arms around his friend's hulking form in a brief but bracing hug.

"You would have done the same," Emmett replied hoarsely, embracing Edward for a moment before pushing him away and recovering his machismo. "But if you really want to show me some gratitude, you can help me take down Rosalie and her minions in there. She fucking killed me last night at that game and I am in need of some sweet retribution. You boys with me?"

Emmett held up his hands for high fives, which Edward and Jasper returned with relish.

"Now, let's go get the best of our better halves," he said with a devilish grin, rubbing his hands together.

Edward tailed Emmett and Jasper out of the kitchen and slowly followed them to the game room, still trying to absorb the changes happening so rapidly around him. He watched the guys settle in with the girls and listened to more trash talk ensue. He smiled in silent wonder at the start of another tradition unfolding before his eyes.

Bella looked up then, catching his wistful gaze. She got up from her spot on the couch and went to him, taking his hands in hers.

"Are you at a loss for words again?" she asked softly.

He nodded and smiled at her perception.

"Well, I'm not," she replied, leaning closer. "I love you. You're finally free. Now let's have some fun." Still grasping his hands, she backed into the family room, pulling him with her.

Edward grinned and let her lead the way.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you all for your continued support! I answered some reviews from the last chapter but didn't manage to get to them all. Please forgive me and know how much I love reading all your comments. (Well, the majority of them! I stopped reading anonymous complaints long ago, since "guests" leave me no recourse to defend myself. If this story falls short of expectations, feel free to move on to one that's more to your liking. There's a whole sea of them from which to choose.)<strong>

**For those of you who are interested, earlier this year I was pleasantly surprised (and flattered!) to be asked by Project Team Beta to write an article for their summer "Smut University" writing program. My article, "Sell the Sizzle, Not the Steak," will be posted on the PTB website August 24, 2013. I am still debating having a Google chat about the article. I can't imagine that anyone would actually want to ask me anything! But if I decide to do it, I'll announce the details on my _pattinspired_ Twitter. **


	49. Chapter 49

James Hunter loved being naked.

He especially loved being naked in public. He luxuriated in it now, on the latest of countless mornings he'd spent modeling in this U-dub classroom. He relished the visceral rush of a room full of art students studying his nakedness. What should have left him feeling vulnerable always made him feel perversely powerful instead, and today was no different. In fact, Thursdays were now the days he enjoyed the biggest thrill of impending victory. For those were the days he felt Bella Swan's big brown eyes above all others, poring over his body with feigned indifference, dutifully recreating every detail of his physique on paper with her small but deft hand.

_The lady doth protest too much, _he thought as he glanced in her direction. He didn't buy her stand-offish behavior or disdainful looks. He sensed that she secretly enjoyed his innuendos and come-ons. He'd known it the first day of class, when he watched her cheeks flame as his erection picked her out of the crowd. He rarely lost control that way in front of the class, even when the prettiest girls were gawking at him. Their appraisal always aroused him, but he was able to keep the beast at bay, for the most part. The blood would dance through his cock just enough to display its magnitude, but he would mentally will it not to rise completely. He had plenty of experience at keeping himself in check until it was time for the beast to be unleashed. And the middle of an art class was definitely not the time or place.

But that first day, the sweet-faced girl planted straight in front of him had done a number on his self-control. She looked so innocent, blushing and trying not to eye his groin as she sketched him. Her pretty features were unadorned with make-up, her skin creamy and unblemished, her brown eyes beautiful but wary. The young figure beneath those skinny jeans was taut with still-new curves. Everything about her screamed "virgin." Yet somehow he knew she was not. Something in her eyes spoke of passion, of desire, of sins committed—or perhaps, sins she had yet to commit. She was ripe and ready for them. And he was more than ready to be her sinner of choice.

He tried to quell his imagination as he stood before her that day, a prop spear aloft in one hand to match his own spear, both pointed at her as if she were his prey. He attempted to stop undressing her with his eyes; to avoid picturing her delicate breasts in his hands, her slim legs spread open wide and waiting. But the more he denied himself these images, the more willful his dick became. It throbbed with insistence to conquer the red-cheeked girl standing mere feet away. The titters and furtive glances from the other students only hardened him further. He imagined silencing their giggles by grabbing the brown-eyed girl and fucking her in the middle of the room while her classmates gaped in shock.

That night, he went to a club and found a willing partner in the middle of a strobe-lit dance floor instead. He pushed up her skirt and proceeded to fuck her into a frenzy amidst a sea of gyrating bodies. No one seemed to notice, or if they did, they didn't care. The high of public sex intoxicated him far more than the drinks he'd downed. He closed his eyes and pretended the moaning, drug-addled girl in his arms was Bella; and then he came.

Of course, he didn't know her name then. She was Brown-Eyed Girl until the day he finally caught a glimpse of her name on the front of her sketchbook. Now she was Brown-Eyed Bella. And she was proving to be the ultimate challenge.

He'd had a lot of them lately, and it suited him. His night job had provided an unexpected array of opportunities to prove himself. Ever since Renaissance Escorts' top stud had removed himself from the roster, James and his fellow escorts had busied themselves making sure Edward Cullen's former clients were satisfied.

He never could quite figure out what women saw in him, anyway, except for his handsome face. The guy was "man-pretty"—good-looking in a masculine yet non-threatening way. An old-fashioned charmer, from what he could gather. Cullen was tall and hung a suit well, but the guy never hit the gym, that James knew of. He was certain he was in better physical shape than that lanky drink of water. And he could be just as smooth as Edward Cullen. He could be a gentleman. He proved it night after night, wooing and seducing every one of Cullen's cast-off customers until they forgot their former favorite.

It was all a game, anyway. By the end of the evening, the women who hired him didn't want a gentleman anymore. He knew what they wanted. And he gloried in giving it to them. Especially Edward's women. Every time he fucked one of them to a shrieking orgasm, his self-esteem soared. For whatever reason, Cullen had grown to legendary status in only a couple of years at the agency. Nothing was more gratifying than banging one of his women better than he did. Surpassing the renowned escort had become James Hunter's _raison d'être. _He wouldn't be satisfied until every one of Edward Cullen's clientele was satisfied.

His cock was growing again at the thought. Time to shift his thinking to more benign subject matter before the class was treated to another full-on erection. He avoided looking at Bella, though he could see her out of the corner of his eye, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, teeth gnawing gently at her bottom lip. His cock stiffened further. Fuck. He wasn't going to let her win this time. He turned his head slightly and looked in the other direction, at a stocky, bespectacled boy with a bored expression. James concentrated on that sexless image until his dick went limp. Not long after, the hour was up.

He reached for his blue robe, thrown over a nearby desk. Then he made his way around the room, perusing the students' work, as was his habit. He enjoyed seeing the various drawing styles and interpretations of his physique. Some of the budding artists were quite talented, and Bella was one of them. The lines of her sketches were becoming bolder and freer, though she still had a fine attention to detail. He liked her details. She always got the shape of his lips just right; she always made his muscles stand out. She had to find him attractive, just by the way she drew him. He was sure of it.

His nerves began to dance a little as he got closer to her easel. He couldn't wait to see what she'd done this time. She busied herself putting away her supplies as he approached—her usual avoidance mechanism. _Silly games_, he thought. He stopped and pored over her sketch of him, a side view this time. The lines of his body were strong and fluid, the details etched in a lighter hand. She hadn't balked at drawing the protrusion of his partial hard-on, nor the curls of pubic hair crowning it. She wasn't afraid to look at him anymore and recreate exactly what she saw. Fuck, was that ever hot.

"Nice work," was all he said aloud. He wasn't about to gush. Less was always more. He preferred to speak with his eyes instead. He waited until she hazarded him a glance, then made sure the look he gave her conveyed his real thoughts. Her cheeks colored slightly, making his dick stir. Seducing that skittish fawn was his fondest wish these days. At work, most women were a sure thing. After all, they were paying him to do their bidding, and that usually included sex. But a girl like this would have to be coaxed and cajoled into letting her inner impulses run wild. That was fine. He could be patient, just as he could be a gentleman. By the time she came to him, his victory would be all the sweeter.

"Thanks," she mumbled in acknowledgement before turning to load up her backpack.

"Have you made your submissions to the art show yet?" he continued, undaunted. "If not, you should consider this one. It's one of your best yet."

"Thanks," she repeated, her eyes flitting to his. "I might. A friend of mine is going to look over my work and give me her unbiased opinion so I can figure out what to submit."

"Good idea," he said with an amiable grin. "Like I said, I'd be happy to throw in my two cents. I think I have a good idea what the professors are looking for."

Bella gave him a brief nod. "I appreciate the offer. I'll let you know."

Her expression indicated that she would not be asking for his opinion any time soon. He couldn't help but feel mild irritation at her tone. What was with her, anyway? It seemed that the nicer he was to her, the more she brushed him off. What had he ever done to her, except reveal his attraction? From day one, he'd made no attempt to hide his desire. Perhaps that sort of honesty was too much for her. She'd already shot down his innocuous offer to buy her a cup of coffee last week. What would it take to break down this girl's defenses?

He would have to concede defeat, if only for today. Someday he would figure out a way to melt that icy exterior of hers. But for now, he simply walked away, glancing perfunctorily at the other students' drawings before disappearing behind the privacy screen at the front of the room where his street clothes waited.

He took his time dressing, pondering what he could do to avoid getting the cold shoulder from Bella yet again. He buttoned his denim shirt slowly, then dawdled over lacing up and tying his Doc Martens. The classroom had grown quiet after the last of the students filed out. But then, from the beyond the screen, came an unfamiliar female voice.

"Bella! Thank God, I finally found the right room. So this is the art studio? Very cool!"

"Hey, Alice," he heard Bella reply, her voice exuding a warmth he'd never heard from her before. "I'm glad you could come. I could use some help picking out what drawings to submit to the art show."

"No prob," the other female answered breezily. "I can't wait to see your stuff."

"I'll start from the beginning of the semester, I guess." James heard the rustle of paper as Bella presumably flipped back through her sketchbook. "These are some profiles of the other students. We drew each other from across the room."

"Oh, this one is nice. He's kind of a hottie," came Alice's voice, accompanied by a giggle.

"Yeah? I hadn't noticed," Bella answered with a laugh of her own. "After a week or two of student sketches, we started in with the nude models."

"This one looks classic," Alice noted. "The way the drape falls over her body. You're really good, Bella." She sounded impressed.

Bella sounded bashful. "Thanks. I'm improving, I think."

"Definitely. I can see the progression in your drawings." There was a slight pause and the sound of more turning pages. "Oh, no, this must be Jackass James!" came a shriek from Alice.

It was his turn to bristle from his hiding spot behind the screen. So that's what Bella called him behind his back? Nice.

"In the flesh," she replied with a weary sigh. "Well, thankfully you don't have to see him in the flesh, but I do. Arrogant prick."

"Hmm, prick is right. He is sporting quite the boner here, isn't he?"

"I try to ignore it. He seems to have gotten control over it since that first day, thank God."

"Too bad," Alice replied with a snort. He heard a few more pages being turned. "He does have a nice bod. Pretty hot, really."

"You think everyone is hot," Bella retorted, though it sounded like good-natured ribbing. James was still getting used to this other, softer side of Brown-Eyed Girl. He just wished she had agreed with her friend's assessment.

"Hey, I love Jasper to death, but I can still look. Are you really so gone on my cousin that you don't even notice other guys?"

"Yeah, I guess I am." Bella's voice took on a dreamy quality that immediately made James envious of Alice's cousin, whoever he was. "I mean, I notice them, but they don't make me feel anything. Not like Edward does."

James froze. Every cell in his body went brittle at the name. _Edward? _No. Not possible. He had to have heard wrong. And even if she had said that name, it couldn't be Cullen.

"Well, obviously the feeling is mutual. No one else could have made him turn his life around the way you have. I'd given up hope that he'd ever quit the business. But all it took was the right girl to give him a reason to stop selling himself. I will be forever in your debt, Bella."

James's head spun. He wanted to sit down, but the nearest desk was out in the open, and he didn't want to give away his presence. Not when his two disparate obsessions were converging in a wild, unbelievable twist of fate like this. The girls had to be talking about Cullen. Who else fit the description? Especially with an old-fashioned name like "Edward."

"I still can't believe it happened," he heard Bella say, her voice sounding like it was coming through a vacuum to his stunned ears. "I can't believe that the craziest thing I've ever done in my life turned out to be the best. When I hired him, I never thought in a million years that I'd fall for him. The fact that he fell for me is even more bizarre. I still sometimes think I'm going to wake up to find out the whole thing was a dream."

"Well, I'm proof that it's not. I wouldn't be here with you right now if it wasn't real. And I wouldn't have a new best friend if you hadn't done the crazy thing you did. So like I said, I'm grateful."

"So am I," came Bella's voice, a choked-up sounding whisper.

There was another silence, punctuated by the sounds of what he assumed was a hug between the girls. He poked his head around the side of the screen for a second, just long enough to confirm the bonding moment between girlfriends.

After that the two got down to business, discussing the merits of Bella's better sketches. James was so lost in his thoughts that he was barely cognizant of what they were saying. His ears did perk up at Alice's mention of his "juicy ass," but Bella's dismissive response only disappointed, then galled him. What were the odds that his most desired conquest had already been conquered by the infamous Edward Cullen? It was absurd. And yet it was the truth. It was proof that real life was stranger than fiction.

It was also proof that James had been right about Bella Swan. Behind that modest veneer lurked a dark, sensual side. The side that made her seek out a paid escort to bring her sexual fantasies to life. But who had she chosen from all the Renaissance Escorts profiles? Not James Hunter. She hadn't even recognized him when he showed up in her art class. No, she went for fucking Prince Charming, Edward Cullen. Not only that, whatever her fantasies were, Cullen was so into them that he actually quit the escort business to be with her.

Was she that good in bed, that deceptively demure girl? Cullen had had every kind of woman, but he chose that one, and that one alone. Hunger and envy gnawed at the bottom of James's gut, tugging at his dick once more. He could see the allure, obviously. He'd ached to melt that girl's steely resolve long before he ever knew she was Cullen's girlfriend. Hell, he never knew the guy even had a girlfriend. Rumors had swirled around the agency that Edward quit because he'd fallen for one of his customers, but James had always scoffed at the idea. He couldn't imagine any guy giving up such a sweet gig. Not only getting to seduce and pleasure women on the regular, but getting _paid_ for the privilege? That was the life. He'd never willingly walk away from that. Not even for a girl like Bella.

He stole a glance from behind the screen. Cullen's cousin was cute enough. As for Bella, James could see only her back, with its swath of glossy hair dangling above a delectable heart-shaped ass. Cullen had walked away from all of it—all those gorgeous women—for that ass. It must be one hell of a good one under that stretch denim.

Now, more than ever, James yearned to see it for himself. Bella's desirability to him had just skyrocketed off the charts with the uncanny revelation of her connection to Edward Cullen. There was no greater thrill than luring another woman away from that overrated has-been. But stealing his _girlfriend? _The possibility was more than James could have hoped for. Seducing Bella Swan would be the ultimate _coup de grace. _

He waited patiently behind the screen while the girls narrowed down the sketches to a few contenders. When Bella settled on two of the female model and two of James, Alice asked the inevitable question.

"Which one are you going to pick for your fifth drawing?"

"I'm going to submit something I did in my free time," Bella answered in a conspiratorial tone. "I have a sketch I drew of Edward while he was sleeping that I think is really good. Don't tell him I'm entering it, though—I want it to be a surprise."

"Ugh, you two and your surprises!" Alice exclaimed. "Do I need to remind you how you would have felt if Edward hadn't finally told you about the Seattle Piano Contest, and you'd missed it? You would have sawed his balls off with a rusty butter knife."

James barely smothered a guffaw. That sounded like an excellent idea to him.

"I know, but this is different," Bella argued. "He's already seen the drawing. He thinks I idealized him too much, but he's just being modest. I think it's one of my best pieces, so I'm going to submit it. Maybe, if it gets accepted for the exhibit, I'll tell him. But I'd rather see the look on his face when I bring him to the art show instead."

"That would be fun," admitted Alice. "All right, I won't say anything. I'll be anxious to see that drawing myself."

"You can come over to my room when you have time and I'll show it to you. Maybe you can help me matte the drawings and get them ready for admission."

"Sure, I'd love to. How about tomorrow?"

James heard Bella agree, but the girls' words were hard to discern over the sounds of Bella putting her sketches in her portfolio and gathering her things to leave. When he heard footsteps heading toward the classroom door, he finally stepped out from behind the privacy screen and watched the girls exit the room, their asses swaying in a matching rhythm as they walked.

He stood still for a moment, digesting all that he had heard. Piano contest? Wouldn't you know, that son-of-a-bitch apparently had talents beyond the bedroom. James didn't know why that surprised him. And now he might have to put up with pretty-boy's mug hanging next to his own at the art exhibit, to boot.

Fine. He could deal with that. In fact, he looked forward to it. He would figure out a way to turn the tables. There had to be a way to use this newfound information to his advantage. He just wasn't quite sure what it was yet.

He did know one thing for certain. He would be at that student art show with bells on. And he couldn't wait to see the look on Edward Cullen's face, either.

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><p><strong>NGL, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Every time I write a POV from the likes of James or Jessica, I understand why actors enjoy playing villains so much. It's fun writing characters who are up to no good. <strong>

**Welcome, new readers, and welcome back, old ones! Heartfelt thanks to each of you for reading and reviewing, even if I haven't responded personally. I blame Rob's Dior ads. The hotness scorched my eyeballs so I couldn't see for a week, let alone write. So he's to blame for me taking so long to update, too. Yeah, that's the ticket! ;)**


	50. Chapter 50

**Sorry it's been so long since my last update, everyone. I often find that everyday life isn't as conducive to creativity as I'd like. But I haven't forgotten this story and I have every intention of finishing it. Sincere thanks all of you who have read, alerted, favorited or reviewed. I hope you are still enjoying the journey, even though it's taking far longer than I anticipated. I wish you and your loved ones a wonderful and memorable holiday season this year!**

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><p>Bella zipped up her hoodie and stuffed her hands in the pockets. The air around Green Lake was brisk, even chilly when the sun dipped behind the clouds. The first Sunday of October turned out to be a typically cool fall day, the sky a brilliant blue backdrop for a steady trek of cottony clouds across its surface. This would be the perfect day for the CROP Walk; and for picking Charlotte Rinehart's brain.<p>

Bella had already stopped inside the host church, Green Lake United Methodist, to register and turn in her pledge money. She liked the fact that some of the money she'd raised would stay in Seattle to help fund food pantries and shelters. That made it easier for her to approach her classmates and ask them to sponsor her, when she normally hated soliciting. She even asked Jackass James for a donation, mostly because he overheard her giving her pitch to a couple of other kids in art class and then insisted on giving her a hefty chunk of change. She hated taking a dime from him, but at least it was going to a worthy cause.

She greeted the other walkers arriving as she passed through the church entry, then returned outdoors to scan the crowd for Edward's benefactor. She didn't have to look for long. She soon heard a mature female voice behind her, calling her name.

"Good to see you, dear," Charlotte greeted her as she approached, closing the top two buttons of her barn jacket against the breeze. "I see you weren't able to convince Edward to come along and get a bit of fresh air," she added with a chuckle.

"Actually, he already went for a run this morning. His Sunday afternoons are usually spent playing video games with his buddies."

"Is that so? Good to know he's not all work and no play," Charlotte said with a relieved smile before changing the subject. "Lovely day for the CROP Walk, isn't it? A bit nippy, but at least the sun is peeking out now and again."

"I like walking when it's cool outside. It's invigorating." Bella stopped and gave Charlotte a sheepish smile, wondering if she would need to slow her pace to match that of the older woman beside her.

"Invigorating, yes. Don't worry if I can't keep up with you. You may want to run along with the younger folks at the front of the group; I won't mind."

"It's not a race. I'm in no hurry," Bella assured her. "Besides, this will give us a chance to get to know each other better."

Charlotte's eyebrows raised in happy surprise. "I'd like that."

"Me, too. I mean, you're a big part of Edward's life, so . . ." Bella trailed off, not sure what else to add. Charlotte was as warm and easy as always, but Bella was still nervous about probing into the woman's relationship with Edward.

Charlotte made a clucking sound. "Make no mistake, my dear. That boy's world revolves entirely around you, with the piano coming in at a close second."

Bella felt her cheeks warm at the acknowledgement. "I'd still like to come hear him rehearse some time. He keeps putting me off, saying I'd be bored listening to him play the same thing over and over. But I could never be bored watching him."

Charlotte smiled at the starry-eyed look in the girl's eyes. She could well understand the infatuation, though she'd discovered that it was entirely possible to become weary of listening to day-long practice sessions, no matter how attractive the pianist.

Before she could dispel the girl's notions, the church minister gathered the large group of walkers together for a prayer before the hunger walk began. Afterward, a traditional bagpiper began playing a melodic drone to lead the way, and the walkers fell in line behind him as he marched down the sidewalk toward the lake. Bella let out a chuckle, prompting Charlotte to ask what was so humorous.

"I don't know. It feels a little like we're following the pied piper. Although bagpipes aren't quite the same, I know."

"I daresay not," Charlotte agreed with a chuckle of her own. "Quite a bit louder, for one. And we're far from being led down the wayward path. Looks more like this path would lead straight to heaven."

Her eyes swept over the placid tree-lined water ahead, the majestic outline of the Cascades in the distance. Bella's gaze followed and took in the view. It was easy to feel closer to God in a peaceful place like this, surrounded by people walking for a good cause.

The two walked in silence for a few minutes, marching in time to the bagpiper and the other participants ahead of them. Bella glanced at Charlotte occasionally to make sure the older woman wasn't overdoing it. On the contrary, she seemed fit as a fiddle, striding along confidently with the rest of the group. Bella hoped she was as healthy and attractive when she was Charlotte's age.

"Not too bad for a senior citizen, eh?" the elder remarked, seeming to read Bella's thoughts.

"I think you're in better shape than I am," she graciously replied.

"Pish posh," Charlotte dismissed the notion in her British slang. "But you're very kind to say so."

"You're the one who's kind, letting Edward practice on your piano every day. And getting that friend of yours to coach him. I know that means a lot to him."

Charlotte flashed a benevolent smile. "It means a lot to me as well. I want to see the boy do well."

"I know you do. But, I have to wonder . . ." Bella paused before going in for the kill. "Why is that, exactly? I guess I don't quite get what's in it for you, helping him leave the escort business."

Ah. So this was why Bella was happy to keep pace with her during the walk.

"And thus I'll no longer be privy to the pleasure of his company," she clarified, while Bella cringed slightly and nodded. "That's a chance I'm willing to take. His company isn't mine to keep, and I have no wish to buy it from him anymore. Should he willingly bestow it, then I shall be a very lucky lady indeed. But I have no illusions regarding his preference in that regard."

She gave Bella a warm smile, hoping to make the girl understand she was not a threat. How could she be? She had long lost the charms of youth so abundant in the girl walking next to her.

"Well, that's very generous of you," Bella said quietly. "Edward wouldn't have quit so soon if you hadn't helped him, financially and otherwise. I think he'll be indebted to you for a long time."

"Is that what troubles you? That he will feel beholden to me?"

Bella blushed at the direct question. "I know he'll want to repay you for everything you've done. He hates being a charity case."

"As do most people with pride and honor. I'll allow him to repay me if he insists, but I certainly don't require it. As far as I'm concerned, everything I have done for him is a gift. His happiness will be my greatest reward."

Bella nodded slowly. "You must care about him a lot."

Charlotte again felt the true weight of the girl's remark. "Yes, dear, I do. I have no children of my own, so spoiling Edward rotten is the next best thing."

She could see by Bella's uneasy smile that her words had not reassured her, so she added more. "I've never harbored any delusions that I could be anything more to him than a friend and companion, and I've never sought his services in any other capacity. I have no hidden motives or secret agenda. Yes, I'll admit I'm quite taken with the boy; who wouldn't be seduced by his charm? But it's not in the way you fear. Please rest assured that my affection for Edward is nothing more than that. I simply want a better path for him than escorting. He deserves a fulfilling career, caring friends and true love. I know who is capable of giving him those things, and it isn't me. So I've done what I can to point him in the right direction."

Bella absorbed her words, relieved and amazed in turn.

"You're wrong about one thing," she said at last.

"What's that, dear?"

"You _have_ given him friendship. And true love—selfless love. And a chance at the career he always dreamed of. You've done so much for him. I know he'll be grateful for the rest of his life." Bella paused until Charlotte glanced at her. "So will I."

A long and meaningful look passed between them. Charlotte wanted to reply; to say it was nothing, the least she could do. But it wasn't "nothing." So she merely smiled, shook her head a little, and basked in the warmth of Bella's acceptance. She'd never sought it, but now that she'd received it, she was strangely grateful for the gift.

The two women walked on in easy silence. When they spoke, the words flowed easily. Bella found herself telling Charlotte about the UW art show coming up next Saturday, her excitement palpable when she revealed that her portrait of Edward had been one of the drawings chosen to be on display. She hadn't even told Alice the news, since she was still afraid Edward's effusive cousin would spill the beans and ruin the surprise. But somehow she knew she could trust Charlotte to keep mum. Charlotte even said she would try to attend the show, because she was keen to see Bella's work.

By the time the hunger walk came to an end, the elder of the pair felt tired, but satisfied; while the younger was exhilarated. Now that Bella had a better understanding of Charlotte's motives, or lack thereof, she felt as if another weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She even grabbed Edward's benefactor in a spontaneous hug before they parted ways.

"Thank you," Bella whispered in her ear. "For everything."

"You're welcome, child," Charlotte said gently before releasing her.

She watched with wistful eyes as Bella bounded down the street and hopped into a beat-up vintage truck. After a sputtering cough or two, the behemoth roared to life, then pulled out and trundled past her on the pavement. Charlotte returned Bella's vigorous wave through the window with a more subdued version. After the truck was out of sight, she shuffled down the walk to her Town Car, then settled into the buttery leather interior. A wan smile played at her lips as she turned the key and listened to the muffled purr of the motor. Her quiet luxury vehicle would now transport her to the cavernous emptiness of her quiet luxury estate. But she knew she would trade its sedate peace for the noisy excitement of youth again in a heartbeat.

.

.

.

Edward viewed the U-Dub Visual Arts Department exhibits with polite indifference. He never did quite get modern art. He could appreciate the varying colors and textures of the students' 3D collages, but they didn't make him feel anything. They comprised nothing more than a pleasant background to him, like so much wallpaper.

Bella seemed far more fascinated, studying each one intently, occasionally commenting on the techniques used to create certain effects. He nodded and smiled, but not at the artwork. She was luminous when she was fascinated by something. He liked watching her eyes take in the creativity before her, soaking it up like a sponge and reflecting it back with shining excitement.

"Maybe I should take a 3D class next semester," she enthused as she pored over the multi-media displays.

"Sure," Edward agreed amiably. "You'd be amazing at it, just like you are at drawing. Speaking of which: where, exactly, are your sketches? That's what I came here to see."

"Patience," she reprimanded with a grin. "They're in the next room."

Edward pointed to the doorway at the far end of the gallery. "That way?"

"Yeah."

"Great. I'll meet you there."

"Wait!" he heard her call as he strode across the room. He grinned when he heard quick footsteps behind him before he felt her grab for his hand. "I want to go with you."

"Don't you think I'll be able to spot your work unless you point it out to me?"

"All the drawings are labeled with the artist's name," she reminded him with a roll of her eyes.

"Then I'll be fine on my own. Take your time back there with the fabric swatches and laser lights."

His smirk was still firmly in place as he barreled ahead, Bella right at his heels. He slowed as his eyes swept the room, skimming over dozens of portraits and nudes, looking for her signature style of strong lines mixed with delicate details.

"But I want to see—" her voice stopped short at the exact moment he did, coming to a halt in the middle of the room. His mouth dropped open at the sight of his mirror image, staring back at him from the far wall. Well, it wasn't staring, per se, since the eyes of his graphite likeness were closed. But there was no mistaking the features of his own face in repose. After all, he'd seen that sketch before, in the privacy of his bedroom, where Bella had drawn it. Seeing it displayed in public was jarring, to say the least.

"—your reaction," Bella finished uncertainly. He could feel her staring up at him, her sweaty palm pressing into his, seeking reassurance. But he was still trying to absorb the fact that she had submitted the portrait she'd done of him in blissful sleep after an unforgettable night together.

The intimacy of that captured moment stood in strong contrast to the posed art model nudes and stone-faced student portraits surrounding it. Bella's skilled hand had perfectly recreated the early-morning sunlight as it played over his face, creating deep shadows and contours that were missing from the other sketches. She had obviously added to the drawing since the last time he had seen it. Her portrait of him was a painstaking and dramatic study of light and shadow that elevated it far above the other classroom-created pieces.

Or was he drawn to it simply because it was his own face that shone like a beacon in a sea of practice sketches? No, it couldn't be that. He was mesmerized despite the subject matter, not because of it. He was mesmerized because it was a visual testament of Bella's feelings for him. The love she'd poured into her vision of him was what made his portrait stand out from all the others.

It was what made _her_ stand out from all the others.

"Do you like it?"

Her voice was small and uncertain. How could she even ask that? How could she wonder?

He grasped her hand tightly and turned his head toward hers. "It's amazing. You're amazing."

"So you're not mad that I submitted something so private?" She bit her lip, eyes anxious.

"Mad?" He shook his head and rubbed her palm with his thumb. "I'm honored. And lucky." He smiled down at her obvious relief. "Looking at these other pieces, I realize I got off pretty easy. At least my privates aren't on display." He raised an eyebrow and gestured at the bevy of naked breasts and genitals adorning the walls.

Bella's laughter bubbled over as her anxiety eased. "Trust me, I'd rather be looking at your assets every day. Then again, I wouldn't want everyone else looking at them, too. So I guess I'll settle for exhibitionist James."

"Hmm," Edward mumbled as he took a couple of steps closer to the wall of nude sketches. He was naturally inclined to look at the female figures rather than the male. Women's bodies were so supple and alluring instead of hard and unyielding. But he dutifully studied all of the drawings, and found Bella's to be both more skilled and more interesting than those of the other students.

"Yours are the best," he whispered to her after they'd strolled the length of the room. "By far."

She beamed up at him. "I'm sure you're biased, but I'll take it."

"No, I just know good art when I see it."

"Do you, now?" She grinned up at the arrogant set of his jaw.

"I do. You'd never know that the subject matter was so distasteful to you," he said as he made his way back to her submissions while she followed. "You managed to make this James guy look halfway handsome. Should I be jealous?"

"God, no!" she scoffed. "He's a pompous windbag. He thinks he's God's gift to women. I hate that type."

"Well, he's obviously delusional. Everyone knows _I'm_ actually God's gift to women."

Bella glanced up at Edward's poker face, betrayed only by the dimpled corners of his mouth. She elbowed his waist until he broke into a full grin.

"Your God's gift to me, anyway," she said. "That's all I care about."

"You always get it backwards," he said with a shake of his head. He placed a protective hand over hip, pulled her close and pressed his lips to the silk of her hair, above her temple. "My savior."

A surge of warmth spread through Bella as she wrapped her arm around his waist. She didn't want to get into that argument with him again—who had saved whom. They came together for a reason. And she'd never felt so much that they were a true partnership—a _couple_—as she did now, embracing him in this public place, the art-viewing passersby paying them no mind.

Edward basked in the simple bliss of this moment with her. He loved watching her come into her own, taking bashful pride in her abilities. He truly believed she could have a future as an artist, or writer, or whatever she put her mind to.

He studied her drawings again, almost envious of the strong, masculine lines she chose to depict the male model. Something was disconcertingly familiar about the look of him—his compact musculature, his unremarkable features, his ubiquitous ponytail.

"Wait a minute," Edward murmured as incredulous recognition took hold. "You've got to be kidding me."

Bella's eyebrows knitted as she reassuringly massaged his waist. "What is it?"

"I think I know your model," he said with a grimace. "Un-fucking-believable."

"You know him?"

"I think so. But I hope to hell I'm wrong about that."

Bella felt her uneasiness grow. "Why? Who is it?"

But before he could answer, a familiar, deceptively innocuous voice met his ears.

"Edward Cullen? What a coincidence."

Edward bristled as he turned to see James Hunter approach, the usual smarmy grin decorating his otherwise bland face.

"I never imagined I'd run into you at a student art show, of all places," the latter continued. "Well, not since you left your escorting days behind." He raised a questioning eyebrow in Bella's direction. "Or did you?"

It was Bella's turn to bristle. She'd always known she might have the misfortune of encountering someone from Edward's recent past, but she'd always assumed it would be a former client, not a co-worker. Still, she wasn't surprised at the revelation that James apparently moonlit as a male escort. Unlike Edward, he was perfectly suited for the job.

"Bella is my girlfriend," Edward gruffly asserted. "I'm here to support her." She felt his arm tighten around her.

"Girlfriend? Really?" James emitted a quick snort of laughter, then quickly recovered with a disingenuous smile at them both. "That's great. She's quite a talent. The best in the class. The best of both classes I model for, actually."

"I don't doubt it," Edward agreed.

The two men squared off in awkward silence. Bella watched them stare each other down, a glint of amusement in James' blue eyes, while Edward's green glare flashed in warning. Part of her thrilled to his protective stance, but the other part worried that he perceived James as a real threat. Should she be afraid of the guy? Did Edward know something about him that she didn't?

James let out another phony chuckle and shook his head as he regarded them. "It really is a small world, isn't it? I never dreamed the three of us would meet up like this, under these circumstances. Of course, I never thought this infamous ladies' man would ever settle down with one woman." He fixed his probing eyes upon Bella. "You must be a very special girl to lure him away from a whole string of beautiful ladies lining up for his . . . favors."

"She is a very special girl," Edward retorted through gritted teeth. "Not that it's any of your business what I do with my time, or who I spend it with."

"I'm sorry. Did I hit a nerve there?" James flashed innocent eyes at them both before giving Bella a look of chagrin. "You _were_ aware of Edward's profession, right? If not, well . . ." His mouth formed an exaggerated grimace. "Sorry if I spilled the beans."

"That's enough," Edward snarled, while Bella finally found her tongue.

"I'm fully aware of what Edward used to do for a living. And what you still do, apparently. The difference is, Edward has moved on and is making something of his life, while you're still using your body and your dubious looks to skate through life. Good luck with that after the age of forty."

The astonishment on James' face was genuine this time, as was his amused chortle. "You're a real pistol, aren't you, Bella? It's always the quiet ones. Feisty. I like that." He sobered as he shifted his attention to Edward. "You're a lucky man, Cullen."

Edward gave him a grim smile. "Well, your luck is about to run out if you keep on running your mouth. I suggest you get the hell out of here. Now."

"Or what?" James taunted him. For a moment, he looked as if he were ready to pick the fight that Edward was threatening. Then the benign grin resumed control of his face and he took a step back. "Fine. Have it your way. I meant no disrespect to Bella, I assure you. Quite the opposite."

Edward seethed with the urge to punch James right in the nose and send it sideways into his left ear, but he kept his grip on Bella instead and tried to calm himself down. His irritation only grew when James began patting his pockets, mumbling about having to make a phone call anyway.

"Shit. I can't believe I forgot my cell. That's a cardinal sin in our line of work. Or, former line of work," he said with another smarmy grin at Edward. He glanced at his watch and cringed. "I'm supposed to check in with Rosalie by 3 p.m., and you know how she can be. I don't suppose I could borrow your phone, just for a minute? Then I'll be out of your hair, I promise."

Edward was floored at the unmitigated gall of this asshole. "You've got some fucking nerve, asking me for anything. But if it'll get rid of you for good, then here, be my guest." He dug in his back pocket and handed over his smartphone. "Make it quick."

"Thanks, man," James replied, sounding peculiarly grateful. He pointed to the door before heading out of the room, promising to return shortly.

"I can't believe _that's_ the James who was modeling for your class all this time." Edward ran a hand through his hair in agitation. "If I'd known, I swear I would have made you switch classes or something."

"Is he that bad? I mean, he's a jerk, obviously. But it seems like you really distrust him for some reason."

"I don't know. I just get a bad vibe from him. I know he's getting a huge amount of pleasure out of taking over my old client list, and I have no idea why—I barely know the guy. But I don't like the way he looks at you. Like you're next in line."

Bella let out a soft snort. "Never gonna happen." She turned to face Edward, grabbing the zippered opening of his jacket. "He can look all he wants, and throw me all those creepy lines. He can't touch me."

"He'd better not even try," Edward muttered, dropping his face to Bella's for a quick but possessive kiss.

"Can't you two keep your hands off each other for even a minute?"

Edward and Bella broke apart with matching smiles when they recognized the bubbly voice interrupting their moment.

"It's nothing you haven't seen before, Alice," Edward reminded her, still grinning down at Bella.

"No kidding. Morning, noon and night, I am subjected to these sorts of PDA," she complained to her counterpart, Jasper, as the two planted themselves next to Bella and Edward.

"Well, good. Then maybe they won't notice our public displays," Jasper said, leaning in to nuzzle Alice's neck.

"You always see the glass half full," she answered with a giggle.

"A trick I learned from you."

"Thanks for coming, you guys," Bella told them. "I really appreciate it."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss it, especially since I helped you pick out which drawings to submit." Alice stopped and gave the wall before them a quick scan. Her face lit up at the depiction of her sleeping cousin. "I knew your portrait of Edward would make the cut as soon as I saw it. It's so good! Isn't it, Jasper?"

"Nice work, Bella!" he exclaimed before taking a few steps closer to inspect her sketches. "I'm impressed."

"Thanks," she replied, a pleased flush spreading over her face. "I was inspired by the subject matter, I guess."

Edward returned her knowing grin before leaning in to whisper low in her ear. "You inspire me, too. I'm inspired to show you my appreciation in a very special way, later on."

The same shiver of anticipation he always gave her shimmied from her ear to her tailbone. She made no reply, just tugged on his jacket zipper again before running her fingers lightly down his chest and belly. She found it difficult to keep her hands off of him when he was so attentive and protective.

"So, how did you like the surprise, Edward?" Alice interrupted them again. She gave Bella a devilish grin. "Did he freak out?"

"I did not freak out," he denied. "I was a little surprised at first, but in a good way."

"He had me worried for a minute," Bella said. "I wasn't sure what he was thinking."

"I was thinking that you don't even realize how talented you are. But maybe now you'll get it, looking at your work compared to everyone else's."

"Exactly," Alice agreed. "I can see that already, and we just got here. You really should pursue art, Bella. You're a natural."

Bella wondered if she would soon reach her limit on the number of times a human being can blush in one day. Jasper's added remarks over his shoulder about her skilled use of shading only added to the cause.

"Hey, is that Jackass James over there?" Alice suddenly changed the subject. "His profile looks just like the one in your drawing."

Bella and Edward turned in the direction of the doorway, where James had paused in conversation on his borrowed cell phone.

"In the flesh," she informed Alice with a curl of her lip. "Get this—it turns out he's an escort at Renaissance. He just borrowed Edward's phone to call Rosalie."

"Get out!" Alice exclaimed, giving them both a shocked look. "Did you know about that, Edward?"

"Hell, no. If I had, I would have done something about it."

Alice let out a laugh at Edward's glowering face. "Like what? Get him fired from the university?"

"That's not a bad idea. Maybe they'd be interested to know what his night job is. I doubt they'd approve of him soliciting students for business."

"You don't think he's doing that, do you?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Edward shot back.

"I've never heard him proposition anyone," Bella interjected. "I mean, he asked me out for coffee once, but that's it."

"But what if you'd gone with him?" Alice asked. "You never know what might have happened after that."

"And I never will. Not interested."

The three fell silent as the man in question ended his call and strode in their direction.

"Well, who's this lovely lady?" he asked with an ingratiating grin at Alice.

"This is my cousin, Alice." Edward's voice was sharp enough to cut glass.

"Well, now I know where Cullen gets his good looks. They obviously run in the family. James Hunter," he said smoothly, reaching for Alice's hand in greeting. But before he could get a slippery paw on her, Jasper interceded, grabbing his outstretched hand and giving it a firm shake.

"I'm Jasper, Alice's boyfriend," he introduced himself, his drawl thick with phony Southern charm. "Pleased to make your acquaintance. I've always wondered what kind of man would have the balls to take his clothes off in front of a classroom full of children for money. Now I know."

James shot a pair of indignant eyebrows skyward, while the girls muffled their laughter at the jab.

"Well, the students certainly aren't children, for one," James replied through a stiff smile. "And it's quite liberating, for another. But I understand that it takes a certain artistic sensibility to appreciate that. Not everyone is brave enough to bare all in the pursuit of great art."

"Great art?" Jasper reiterated. "Well, when you put it that way, it's downright noble, what you're doing. If Mona Lisa had known what an honor it was, I'm sure she would have taken off a few layers for Da Vinci. Just imagine what 'great art'that painting could have been," he finished with a wistful sigh.

The girls didn't bother to hold in their laughter then. Even Edward had to appreciate Jasper's wit, stifling a grin with difficulty.

James shot them all a sour smile. "Go ahead. Make fun. I won't apologize for my choices. I enjoy what I do. Edward knows what I'm talking about. Or, he used to, not so long ago. We'll see. What's that saying about leopards and their spots . . .?"

"Or wolves in sheep's clothing," Edward retorted.

"An even better analogy," James replied with the quirk of an eyebrow. "Be careful whose company you keep, Bella."

"I was referring to you," Edward clarified with a sneer.

"If the wool fits . . . " James grinned and began backing away from the group, tossing Edward's phone to him before he turned away. "Thanks again for letting me borrow your cell. I owe you one," he called.

"Nice way to get the last word," Jasper muttered. "Run away, coward."

"Don't listen to him," Alice said, her eyes shifting from Bella to Edward. "Either of you. He's just trying to get a rise out of you."

"Was he speaking? I didn't hear anything," Bella joked.

But Edward didn't laugh. He stared at the doorway for a long minute after James had disappeared through its frame.

"You should listen to him," he said to her at last.

"What?" she exclaimed. "Why? He's trying to get me to doubt you. That will never happen."

"You _should_ be careful whose company you keep," he said. He grasped her arm, just firmly enough to let her know he was serious. "Stay away from him. Make sure you leave art class with another student every day. Promise me."

Another shiver went down Bella's spine, but it was very different from the one Edward had given her earlier. She heard Alice and Jasper each offer to come meet her after her art class, while Edward thanked them in turn. But her attention was drawn to the dozens of images of James on the surrounding walls, their army of harmless poses suddenly menacing, closing in. She zeroed in on her likeness of Edward, his sunlit face a beacon in the darkness, until the drawings of James faded away.

She turned to the real beacon beside her and met his anxious gaze with her own.

"I promise."

* * *

><p><em>315/14-Just a note to apologize for the lack of updates on The Agreement this year. So far 2014 has brought me flu, bronchitis, and a severe sinus infection; but much worse, a death in my family. As a result, I simply haven't been able to write for quite some time. I want to finish the story but I honestly have no idea when that will happen. I really do appreciate all your feedback, even if I have not been able to respond as of late. Thank you for your understanding._


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